Uncle Grandma

Post menopause continues its unrelenting siege to extract every ounce of femininity and moisture from my body. Everything is so dryyy. My skin soaks up lotion faster than cracked red Georgia clay soaks up water on a scorching hot summer day. Dried up corn husks are softer than my skin. And you younger gals are not ready for what’s gonna happen to your vagina. Enjoy it now while you still can.

I half jokingly refer to myself as a swamp witch, given my general appearance and the thin, straw like texture of my unruly grey hair. My daughter took a picture of us the other day and swamp witch would be a compliment. I understand why people have called me “Sir” in recent years. When my hair is pulled back, I look just like my uncle (who was a handsome man, don’t get me wrong), but also like a grandma? I’m Uncle Grandma. Losing my looks and my sexuality is the least of my worries at this point in time. I don’t give a fuck. What concerns me most is that I was, just now, looking for my phone and it was in my hand. In my fucking hand! And it’s not the first time that’s happened. Am I going to be the old crazy lady watering the sidewalk in her underwear at midnight? I need to go poop about this—and if you don’t know what THAT means, you will.  

#postmenopause #womenover50 #crazyoldlady