Sweatin With The Oldies

Cool Summer

PacificSun.com : Single in the Suburbs: Sweatin' to the oldies

I'm fabulous at 40ish.When my on-again, off-again beau and I lie in bed together, his expression is one of wide-eyed wonder. (Not so easy for a Japanese man.) Imagine my sexy nightie dripping wet and my entire body drenched in sweat. Our sheets are soaked through and I'm spent, zapped of energy, almost delirious. Yep, for a middle-aged woman, I've got it going on. Of course, it is a passing, of sorts. My reproductive capabilities are slowly, but noisily expiring, refusing to go gentle into that good night. I invited my perimenopausal girlfriends over to sit shivah with me last weekend. (It's true that the Jewish bereavement custom actually lasts seven days, but we're busy gals.) Not only did it help us deal with the grief over losing our fertility, but we Jews came up with some great rules for mourning. During shivah, no sexual intercourse. Let's face it, when your ovaries are shriveling and you're constantly sweating like a sinner in synagogue, it puts a damper on romance anyway. Absolutely no ironing allowed either. My extensive stage of denial about aging has concluded. I accept that my lifelong dream of marrying a tall, exotic-looking man with a substantial schlong and bearing his beautiful, brilliant child who turns out to be a music prodigy just ain't gonna happen. Even my prospects of marrying a short, balding Jewish man and adopting a child from a Third World country are dwindling quickly. OK, I'm going to tell you the truth about what I see. I thoroughly researched perimenopause and many of my symptoms are attributable to the condition, so please don't think that my growing up in Florida and tanning with olive oil caused my wrinkles. My thinning hair is due to hormonal changes and has nothing to do with years of highlighting, bleaching and perming. From the number of tresses I find in the drain catcher every morning, I predict I'll be bald before my first gray hair appears. My cellulite is not from lack of exercise. Ditto for the flab that jiggles on the underside of my upper arm. I wouldn't be caught dead in a sleeveless top anymore. I don't know the reason for my fat knees. They simply appeared one day and now I can't wear shorts. I should give away all my clothes and don mumus. Why did that garb go out of style anyway? The girls are sagging a bit, but I hoist them up with a good underwire bra. Sometimes when I stand, my left hip crumples and I can't take a step for a second or two. A few times a month, my lower back aches.

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