Going Menopausal: Reflections of a 51 Year Old Woman On Her Family, Her Life And Her God
I have some physical changes with this menopause movement. My eyebrows are practically nonexistent, my eye lashes are thinning and it’s wreaked havoc on my belly. It is as if I was storing up fat for those cold winter days of hibernation.
I even asked my gynecologist about it. She didn’t give me any hope really, only told me that as a woman in my 50’s I’d have to exercise for an hour a day seven days a week in order to maintain my weight. While a woman in her 20’s could get away with moving her butt only three days a week in order to maintain her body weight.
What’s up with that?
One day it dawned on me that corn chips with cheese, sour cream and salsa everyday for lunch might not be helping. I cut back on eating carbs, continued hiking and walking and I’m pleased to say I lost fifteen pounds. Suddenly my clothes were loose on me. Oh heavenly days!
I was feeling so thin I tried trail running, because walking is slow. Guess what? My hips began to hurt. The same hips that carried my five babies and opened wide to allow their births are now betraying me. So I had to stop.
But I’m finally comfortable in my own skin, a great achievement for any woman with our body image issues brought on by our culture and our insecurity as woman. And I think I have menopause to thank.
Something changed in my brain.
Yes, I have lumps and sag a little here and there. My breasts which once nourished five babies are now flat and small. Gravity takes its toll.
But I accept myself.
More importantly I accept God’s creative genius in putting together my unique genes, DNA and spirit.
I finally believe I’m His beautiful masterpiece.
I don’t feel the need to have enhancement surgeries. I don’t have the money anyway.
(Ask me if I feel the same way ten years from now.)
As a young girl I wasted time and angst lying in the sun with baby oil slathered on my skin trying to look like my girlfriends' Lynda, Heidi, Kim and Julie with their beautiful golden brown skin. Now I’ve had three basil cell carcinoma spots removed. Who knew?
"What the hell! God made me a white woman! And that's ok."
And with my acknowledgement of the masterpiece of me, I am free to squeeze down into my Jesus place. It’s a spiritual menopause induced lesson I’ve learned and I try not to get prideful about it.
My Jesus place is the Holy of Holies in the temple of my soul. With me where ever I go, no matter what is happening in my life, it saves me.
He is with me as real and true as my life itself. And nothing can ever separate me from this Truth. Sometimes I will fail to remember for a time. But He'll speak softly in my ear.
I am here.