Menopause in the movies…

Menopause in the movies…doesn’t exist. Unless, you consider any movie Miss Crawford starred in post 1950. And, do you want to know the reason why? I think it scares men. I don’t think ghosts or gore or ten foot tall limpid blue aliens can hold a candle to a fifty year old woman for sheer, awe inspiring, fear.

Think Joan in, say, 1951 — the harsh makeup, the lacquered hair — all so yesterday. But, the spirit lives on — the steely humorless demeanor, the superficial sweetness masking a cobra strike. Oh yes. Just ask my beloved.

I was going to post a formal portrait of Joan from that period, but then I saw this and, forgive me for saying so, but I identified… Deeply, deeply, identified. You see, there are days I will rip your heart out over a splash of coffee on the counter or a drop of jam on the floor. Let’s talk dust, better yet, let’s talk baseboards — why is it nobody else but me sees them flocked and teaming with dirt? Are male eyes structurally different than female eyes — that just can’t be… And, if you retort with some particle vs wave theoretical hooey I will smack you.

Brace yourself, a change in tone, some might call it a mood swing, and-oh-my-darlings, they come quickly now. The mister and I have been an item for thirty years. There are days (most days, to be perfectly honest) when I look at him and I think, I am the luckiest girl in the world. Sometimes I look at the kid and I think he’s the most adorable thing on the face of the earth (and let’s face it, he is)… And, yet… Does this afford them any protection? Not really.

I think the male lack of dirt detection is made up for by the Hormonal Danger Zone sensor. I can see it in the set of their shoulders, their primal alacrity, alert, poised to flee – suddenly they decide to go to the hardware store for a useless drill bit or electric doohickey.

“Do you both need to go?”

They exchange a look, leaving dust trails behind.

Thank God for the Swiffer.

 

4 comments

    • Having put the kibosh on the Christmas tree yesterday, which led to sweeping, which led to laundering four table cloths, which led to…well you get the idea. Three cheers for dirt detection!

  1. I just turned 51 last month, and honest to goodness, my husband said these words. “I’ve heard that when women get past age 50, they suddenly hate their husbands. Are you going to hate me and want to leave?” I howled with laughter, then asked him to get me another bowl of ice and fan air across it gently with an ostrich feather to ease my latest hot flash. Some stuff we hear about menopause is hooey – some is not. Let them guess which is which! *evil grin*

    • Ms. Marcheline, I like, no, I love your style! What I’ve learned so far is Mom was right. Regular exercise is the only thing that keeps my hormones from switching on the heat. May the New Year bring you grins aplenty!

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