Menopausal Musings

I notice my reflection in the mirror. It has changed over the years, but especially in the last 5 years. The post-menopausal effects of less estrogen are revealing themselves.

My skin, my physical interface with the outer environment, is less elastic, a bit thinner, and more friable. Little “owies” seem to happen more easily. More skin tags, dark, rough liver spots and red petechiae dots form new constellations visible on the universe of my body. In the middle of my throat is one large, dark mole. Sometimes I notice people’s eyes wandering down to it as they talk with me.

The skin on my face begins to sag. Sometimes I pull it up with my fingers, along the angle of my jaw line, to see my younger look. This is why some women go for cosmetic surgery.

Then there are the dark circles under my eyes. They’ve been there for decades, after years of interrupted sleep as a mom, midwife, and then, insomniac. Yet I still keep hoping to find out how to help them diminish. I’ve taken rejuvenative herbs for my adrenals. I’ve cut out gluten. I’m sleeping better most nights now. My grandma did say we had gypsy blood and it might be a hereditary tendency. I’ve even been tempted by chemicalized cosmetics that swear that they reduce dark circles. When I applied some I noticed that it irritated. My eyes teared up. It was so unpleasant I couldn’t even continue it long enough to see if it worked. Still, I wonder if the more expensive version of the cream is better—but it is over $100 a jar.

Is aging a war to be fought or an adventure to be lived?