Menopause Turned My Bedroom Into a Brothel

Menopause Turned My Bedroom Into a Brothel

 

the last roses
Image: Jannino Kemprung via Flickr

Yes, peri-menopause is making me a changed woman. It is doing things to my body and brain that I never knew it could. It is also changing my house. How? Well,  it's because menopause is transforming the bedroom into a brothel.

 But, not in the way you would think.

The other morning, I made an astute observation. I stepped into the bedroom and I began to blush – and not from a hot flash. If someone walked into our room, they would raise an eyebrow... or two.

 Here are the reasons menopause makes my bedroom look like a brothel:

  •  I never know which woman will be in the room:

It could be the sentimental, sappy, romantic, “I-need-a-hug-because-I-cried-at-the-ending-of “The Notebook”-again.” Or, it could be the screaming, road-rage-crazy lady who could take out Chuck Norris and Batman at the same time because the estrogen and testosterone are battling it out for the win. I guess this can add a little mystery and excitement. But then again, it might not…

  • Love Potion Number 9:

All those tiny little brown glass bottles next to the bed? Love potions? Hardly! These bitty bottles are filled with essential oils, carrier oils and herbs that are slathered on in the attempt to control the battling hormones and the achy legs. If you want to know if these work, the answer is yes. But if someone feels better thinking they are for another use, go right ahead…

  • Lingerie on the door handles:

Not what you think. These styling, thigh-high hose keep my legs from aching and support circulation. They also are a great upper-arm workout because they are part of my cardio exercise every morning. Putting support hose on makes me limber and creates beads of sweat. The only merit these miracles of the medical world have is that they are made in Italy - only the uppermost in fashion for my support-needing legs.

  • Dim lighting:

Not from flickering candles, but from nightlights so that I don’t break my neck fumbling around in the dark for my glasses.

  • Fifty Shades of Gray:

Not the book – just my own gray hair.

  • High-heels in the corner:

Yes, they were tossed in the corner quickly, and not due to a state of undress. My lower back and baby toes protested loudly, and the pile of shoes will be donated. Soon.

  • Expensive perfume:

What used to be reserved for special events and evenings out has become a necessity, because, well, I may need to cover up the results of a hot flash.

  • Bed sheets in disarray:

Tossing the pillows and ripping the bedding off the mattress has a brand new meaning when living your own personal summer.

 Maybe I shouldn’t complain because, in many ways, menopause is keeping me one hot lady with a sexy-looking bedroom. Maybe I shouldn’t have revealed what is going on behind the scenes. Maybe it’s better to fantasize about our room being a brothel instead of a staging area to keep my hormones in check.  One thing is for sure, retaining a sense of humor about this life-changing event is critical – well, until the mood changes again. Which it could. Today. In an hour. In a minute.

 © Lynne Cobb - 2014

 Are you handling menopause with humor? Is it helping? 

 Lynne is a writer and blogger, with articles and essays published in local and national publications. She is a military spouse, mother of four and shares her Midlife Random Ramblings at http://lynnecobb.com

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