The Menopause: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Being seven years (ish) post-menopausal, I figured hoped that I’d experienced all there was to the menopause. Surely, Mother Nature had no more menopausal ‘surprises’ for me?

Apparently not, because the other day I peered (not a typo) into my pants to discover that my pubic hair have all but farked off!

I’m gutted because I’ve always been fond of my pubic hair. Pubes as pubes are meant to be. Not landing strips or love hearts. Or non-existent.

You get me?

I recall scrutinizing a naked Sindy doll and she looked grown up, but there was no hair on her unmentionables. I knew that grown-up ladies had hair on their unmentionables and Sindy was a grown up – albeit on a borrower scale – so why didn’t her unmentionables have hair? In the end I felt-tipped some ‘pubes’ on for her, and while I was at it, I gave her some nipples. Then I blacked out one or two of her teeth and gave her an edgy tattoo..

To be fair, I was more interested in my brother’s Action Man than Sindy and he was also missing some vital genitalia.. so I got creative and made him one out of Plasticine.

Bit o’ Trivia

The Barbie prototype had nipples, but they were filed off and the doll was remodelled without them.

The point is that I don’t understand the obsession in wanting to look like a doll, whether it’s your face (or fanny) but if it is your thing, you probably won’t be as bothered when your pubes abandon you, and think of the money you’ll save!

Question: How could you NOT notice you were losing pubes?

That’s easy to answer..

I can’t see that area when I’m standing up thanks to mid-life spread. Nor have I noticed anything untoward in the bath due to an excess of bubbles and general reluctance to focus on my strange carcass. The only reason I noticed my dwindling lady-garden at all was because I happened to be lying down and my panty-liner had attached itself to a few of my remaining pubic hairs, WHICH FRICKIN HURT!

Is it possible that former me was abducted by aliens and present me is someone who looks like me, but is wearing some kind of skin-suit made up by a trainee alien sewing-machinest? THIS IS ABSOLUTELY PLAUSIBLE, YES?

Snap out of it, loon. Embrace the hair-loss or purchase yourself a merkin!

*Googles merkins*

Aha! Merkins are pube wigs! They date back to the 1450s when pube removal kept lice at bay and a woman could slap on a merkin and pretend she still had a magnificent bush!

(Scratched your crotch, dintcha?)

These days, merkins are used in film and television when genitalia need to be covered up for ‘nude shots’ to abide by contracts or age-ratings. There will also be situations where actors don’t have enough pubes of his/her own. For instance, a film set in the 1970s era will generally require copious amounts of hair. Big hair-dos. Chest hair. Big beards. Big moustaches. BIG PUBES!

I wonder if they can be line-dried?

I’m all for being positive about the menopause, but I would be lying if I said that the transition has been easy for me. I’m autistic, therefore I don’t do change, but humour is a way of coping with the loss of who I once was and I’m not the only hormonally challenged lunatic woman who understands the value of having a good laugh!*

In the spirit of a good old ha-ha, have a look at these responses to this question on Mumsnet in 2017.

“Do lady gardens stop needing to be mowed?”

Ex nurse here. I’ve seen more older ladies lady gardens than I’ve had hot dinners. Yes, they do tend to get sparser with age. There are exceptions to every rule, but in general this is true. ~ Watto1

My lawn is distictly patchy, but there’s copious couch grass spreading down my legs. ~ Pick A Chew

Post-meno here with a lady-garden that Alan Titchmarsh would get lost in. Sorry~ Zaphodsotherhead

Post-meno and a flourishing lady-garden?

WHAT IS THIS WITCHCRAFT?!!!

*howls, why can’t it be meeeeeee?*

Being autistic (and obsessive) it’s not enough that I am losing my pubic hair. I have to know why my ‘lady garden’ looks sparser than our back lawn during the heat wave in 1976!

The simple answer is that Mother Nature is a vindictive cow – though technically it’s changes in the balance of the oestrogen and testosterone. And it’s not just pubic hair. Ooh no. It’s hair on your scalp and armpits too! What’s more, you can expect hair (s) to appear on your face, nipples or toes. In fact, throw in a wart and a black cat and kids will start asking if there’s room on your broom!

Ageing is about seasons and I am in the autumn of my years and autumn is a fitting description for what’s going down with my pubic hair because deciduous bushes shed their leaves just like I’m shedding pubes, right? However, the good news for the bushes is that spring will come again. No such luck for my pubes!

So there you have it: receding gums, weight gain, stress incontinence, constipation, insomnia, vaginal dryness, wrinkles, dry skin, wiping the floor with your own nips, an arse which spans at least three post-codes and now there’s pube-loss to look forward to. I’d say crack open a bottle of wine and get mullered, but the menopause makes you less tolerant to alcohol and that’s another gigantic kick in the flaps right there!

How’s about a nice mug of Chamomile tea instead?

*Googles ‘Where do I buy a merkin?’

Creative Commons Image

*Making sure that that panty liner is firmly in place, because, leakage?

So when Ken pointed out that I don’t have any nipples, I pointed out that he doesn’t have a penis!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fade To Grey..

Our hair turns grey as part of the ageing process, though I prefer silver or ‘salt and pepper’ as grey is one of those depressing words, like beige.

When Do We Go Grey?

Most women will start to see the odd grey hair from around their thirties. I was in my twenties, but then I don’t like to be average. By the time most women hit their fifties, around 50% of their hair will be grey.

Getting that first grey hair is bad enough..

First grey pube? Horrifying!

Why Do We Go Grey?

Hair color is the pigmentation of hair follicles due to two types of melanin: eumelanin and pheomelanin. Generally, if more eumelanin is present, the color of the hair is darker; if less eumelanin is present, the hair is lighter. – Wikipedia

So, we ‘devenir gris’..

‘Eh?’

The Visage song, innit.

“Aaah, we fade to grey (fade to grey)”

Yeah? So, ‘devenir gris’ means ‘go grey’ in French. You can’t say that I don’t educate you in this blog!

*whispers* I used to think it was ‘Div in your Gary’, but lets get back to the hair.

So, some of us go to great lengths (intentional hair pun) to try and hold back time, but unless we understand the affect hair colour has on our ageing skin, we can end up making ourselves look older than we actually are, which, quite frankly, sucks.

For starters – dark shades can be ageing. Worse still is the band of white roots. There is about a three week period before roots start to show, then it’s another three weeks of zig-zagging the parting to break up those telltale lines of grey. Six weeks later, it’s back to the hairdressers for a touch up and it’s not cheap having your hair professionally coloured, but it’s a case of cough up or buy a dye-it-yourself kit and the result can look epically crap depending on how competent one is at application. PLUS, let’s not forget the state of our bathrooms when we’ve finished slapping the stuff on our scalps. Put it this way. My last application of ‘Cherry Red’ made my bathroom look like a crime scene. I didn’t know whether to clean the bath or dust it for finger-prints!

We naturally fade as we age. Our skin gets paler. We lose that flush of youth. Granted, we are menopausal, therefore no stranger to flushes, but they are more Beetroot Red than Rosy Pink, wouldn’t you say?

To carry off dark hair, we need to know what we are doing make-up wise. Take Joan Collins for instance. Dark hair, but shit loads of make-up and a make-up artist who knows their stuff. We can get away with a lot when we are young, but when we are older we need to make adjustments or risk frightening small kids.

Or looking like we’re stuck in a time warp..

Doctor, take me back to 1981. The decade of Duran Duran, Jackie magazine and collagen.

Speaking of time-warps, I remember a rather ‘eccentric’ lady who wore mini-skirts, stilettos and garish make-up in the 80s. She was fifty if she was a day, but she was definitely stuck in the 60s – which was probably when reached her prime? Later, in the 90s, there was another lady in her fifties who dyed her hair white blonde, and wore blue- glitter eye-shadow, flares and platform shoes that high, she must have required a step-ladder to climb into them..

The first time I saw her lurching up the street was a Life on Mars moment where I thought I’d somehow fallen into a coma and woken up in 1973. The giveaway were two lads, (complete with classic 90s ‘curtain’ hairdos), who were taking the piss behind her back. That is, until she turned around and threatened to give them a thrashing with her platforms.

If dressing like that made her happy, then fair enough because I know ALL about being different. That said, I’m a big fan of the 80s, but if I was to strut down the shops wearing a ra-ra skirt, legwarmers and slingbacks, I’m fairly certain my family would put me in a home.

The point is that we can’t reclaim our ‘glory years’, no matter how much we might want to, because the menopause affects EVERY aspect of our being. We are not that person anymore.

So, hair.

I’ve had my share of hairdos. Good, bad and downright criminal.

Mullet? I had one.

One of those daft pigtails on short hair? Had one of those too and boy did I look a tit!

Highlights. Lowlights. Perms. Straight. Backcombed. Bobbed. Shaved up the back ‘n’ sides. Long. Short. Mid-length. Blonde. Brunette. Red. Mahogany. Oh, and black.

Black was a BIG mistake.

I’m done now. I want to embrace my natural hair which has been greying since I was in my twenties. I’m about four months into growing my hair dye out. It’s doing my head in, but I’ll persevere.

So, I am probably getting my hair cut short this week, unless my hairdresser advises me otherwise, in which case, I’ll be wearing a hat.

Or a wig.

Viva La Menopause