love, love, love, love
Do a search for perimenopause and you get a list of clinical sites that will tell you the symptoms you are likely to experience and how long it typically lasts (10 years seems to be the agreed upon term). Search ‘how to cope with perimenopause’ and you get the same list, with maybe an article with an interview with a doctor expert that tells you the same list of symptoms and time period but in a slightly more conversational and friendly way.
That’s why I am loathe to do any searches about what I’m going through. It feels too much like I’m before a judge being sentenced. “That’s 3-10 years, no time off for good behavior.” ::bonk bonk::
I’m also not looking for a checklist to run down and tick off each achievement as I reach them. It’s only helpful to a point for me. For instance, the fact that my metabolism slowed down and I now have a fullness in my body that doesn’t seem to be connected to anything I eat or any exercise I do. It was nice to have my intuition validated when I attributed this to my changing hormones. That takes a little anxiety out of the equation, I guess. Didn’t help at all with actual acceptance though.
What did help? Bouncing on my toes in front of the mirror naked and delighting in my new heaving bosom.
I’m getting excited about the fact that when I get all dressed up for a family wedding in a couple of months that I can show some cleavage. This is a game-changer. I’m going to find the perfect low-cut dress, even make a visit to Victoria’s Secret (They’re still around, right? I haven’t been in one, worn a bra since I was in my 20s and dating.) so I can get just the right lift and cuppage. I may look into…side boob.
It does not matter to me at all that my breasts droop more from my less-taut skin. I am quite alright in the end with my belly that is also rounder. I’ve given away my pants that pinch at the waist these days. I’ve embraced the new sizing in clothes I buy now. My thighs? They are SOLID. Thigh gap is not even in my vocabulary.
I still get a little disappointed that my inherited small chin is seeming smaller and smaller as the skin of my neck continues to loosen and my cheeks feel fuller. I have a routine of repeating “love love love love” when I massage in my face moisturizer in the morning and at bedtime. This ritual helps me to embrace me on a deeper level and not just at (ahem) face value.
I’ve extended this ritual to my whole, curvier, fleshier body. I look at my naked self whenever I get the chance, turning in front of the mirror like I’m admiring a new dress I just bought. I smile, I cup handfuls of flesh, I hug myself. I know rationally that I’m changing because my hormones are changing and that this is only the start of it. But that mental comprehension takes a firm back seat to a deeper knowing. I’m aware that I’m transforming. I’m being liberated. I’m accessing my power.
It makes sense that my skin has loosened. I need to be able to take up more space and my physical container is making adjustments to allow that to happen. The effects in my body are caused by my wisdom becoming tangible.
I made a decision to embrace this morphing. I believe it’s taking me someplace amazing and I’m going to trust it. Let’s do this thing, perimenopause! I’m more than a list of symptoms and I’m excited to see who that is.
