You've listened to me rant and rave about menopause. You've heard my lament about hot flashes. It's only fair that you hear my latest moaning. After all, that's what you're here for, right? To hear me moan and groan I mean.
Women who are hormonal have issues. We who are aging and have hormonal issues need sympathy, kindness, conciliatoryness (is that a word? of course it is, I just made it up). We need people to be considerate so we don't have to bite their heads off, to be as hot as we are so they can withstand the not so moderately lowered air conditioning, and above all to keep all remarks about aging and hormones to themselves. Maybe that's not above all. Maybe above all is agreeable. They definitely need to keep their sense of humor because we, the afflicted, have lost ours.
Photo by Flickr Sixties Books
Today I went to a very upscale department store to buy new bras. Mine have become suddenly too tight but at the same time too loose, both in the wrong places. I've worn the same size for years now. I wear very good bras because I know this is important. I don't want to bounce, protrude, or trip over myself when walking. I asked the kind clerk, the older of the two clerks because one of them was certainly underage and shouldn't have been working since she must have been a junior high student, for a fitting. I assumed that I might have changed sizes a little.
I'm one of those women who prayed for a growth spurt upon entering high school. God granted that wish after the birth of my first child. And again after my second child. And again after my third child. None of it ever left. While in my twenties and thirties that was fine. Heavens, it was more than fine, it was good...just ask my husband. But I digress. As I enter my sixties it is no longer fine. It is now burdensome. As the kind older clerk measured me I felt a note of satisfaction to see that she wrote down the same number I've always worn. However, when she wrote the letter size it had changed. Not just one size up ladies, but two! And not just two sizes but I have now graduated to double digits. Letters, that is. I wasn't kidding about tripping over the darn things.
I know there's surgery for this kind of problem but I made the mistake of watching it on the medical channel once. Do you know how they do that? Horrors! I vowed a long time ago to grow old gracefully with no help from a surgeon. I maintain that vow. But if I could wiggle my nose and get rid of a bit of this extra I have you can bet I would.
How about you? If you could wiggle your nose and "fix" something would you do it?