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The Change or The Final Stages of Womanhood

I was born mid 50’s meaning at this grand age of being in my 60’s I should be well on the other side of the ‘woman-a-pause’ ( my renaming this change of life occurrence as a womanist..)

Actually being born in Jamaica

I was used to us calling the ‘woman-a-pause’ The Change, which began for me with the slowing down of my regular mensies when I was aged around 42 or so. My regular monthlie

s began to look strange too...More blood clots than flowing blood; more dark in colour and definitely more pungent! I remember discussing with my now deceased sister, that if I had a chid now using what I can only call ‘mashed up eggs- judging by my monthlies- I honestly believe it would have never finished the course. I am known as a bit of a realist.

42 may seem young but I discovered when I began to read about feminine bodily changes – that being peri-menopausal ( I went to the doctor to have a blood test and it was confirmed that this is what ailed me) can vary massively across the age range. Funnily, I can actually remember how long my monthlies or mensies messed around- spluttering and waning before it eventually stopped. However, I do remember how happy I felt that after all these years of rampant sex and worrying, that I was now as a free as a bird to enjoy a sex life without the dreaded consequence of another mouth to feed. Hip hip hooray as I moved into total sexual freedom.

Sweating has been one of my biggest hurdles, however, I’m not entirely sure that it’s the woman-a-pause that is totally to

blame of that. My mother passed at 86 and she was still sweating and I have 6 brothers and they have been big sweaters too, so maybe it accentuated a family trait. I made vast changes because of the sweating- such as getting rid of jumpers- just the sight of one would have me coming out in a hives; no synthetic materials or clothes and even bedding had to be 100% cotton. I walked with a hand fan and whipped it out often when travelling- especially on the tube. I would have to sit next to a window in meetings and in my then own workplace I purchased desk fans and insisted everyone was aware of my changing plight ( yes, I am dramatic and over involving- lol) and I’ve never liked suffering alone.

Now it’s over 20 years sin

ce I began ‘the change’..I sweat much less; my natural hair which used to hold a mountain of glorious locks are long gone and grows much slower, I have hairs on my top lip and my chin and now that I’m greying more than ever the glistening on my top lip can sometimes be mistaken as nose dribble or stuff on my face.

Over this period my libido has gone up and down, but then so has my love life. I didn’t seem to get the bad temper but I’m more philosophical. I tend to veer towards being a naturalist so tend to happily accept that people have to take me mainly as they find me.Though like most of us maturing women I try my best to look ‘decent’. lol

I think the naturalist approach has helped me to adapt so has information about what’s happening so that I can understand and didn’t feel ‘crazzzy’. When we don’t know I think it flings us in that direction of panic. I feel with age my memory is shot to shit- but so is everyone’s. When I breathe through it and don’t panic it works and I have always written stuff down so again the woman-a-pause has highlighted weaknesses I had all my life anyways.

One final thing I have found changing is the dryness of my pum-pum. Again, it is not consistent but one stage I remember having to duck into boots to have a private consultation with the pharmacist when I felt as though my inner lips had been slashed from the inside thus making walking impossible. She responded with an ointment and all was well again. So pleased we don’t have to feel alone and have zoom and blogs and such like to share with each other as black women.

Together we learn and breath and flow and get back to our glow.


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