I Hope I'm Old Before I Die

So sang Robbie Williams. Well, fuck that: I hope I’m old before I get old.

About a year before I left Australia for Japan in 2005, I got my period about every two weeks, had many sleepless nights, and had difficulty concentrating. I thought I was going through a phase. Then I thought the above was all due to the stress of moving country. Then I thought it was living in a different country; it was similar when I lived in the UK for a couple of years. I joked with friends in Tokyo that I was going through early menopause.

Finally saw a doctor after returning to Australia, and she confirmed that I am indeed going through early menopause, or the rather unkindly named Spontaneous and Unexpected Ovarian Failure, according to the Australasian Menopause Society. Like I need ovarian performance anxiety. For fuck’s sake.

Initially confused and upset, and not entirely sure why I was confused and upset, I decided to ignore the whole thing. Feck, I’d been through the worst of it in Tokyo: covered in sweat every night, full nights of sleeplessness, uncontrollable sobbing, hot flushes during the day at work (bless living in Japan, where having a handheld fan is almost mandatory), and the worst thing: a complete inability to concentrate. I’ve always been quite vague, a dreamer, but this brought my absent-mindedness to a whole new level. That was, and still is, the hardest thing, because I’ve always prided myself on my intelligence (although this blog is hardly a reflection of it).

My gyno and I are currently discussing oestrogen replacement therapy, although I am loathe to go down that path. Apparently, I am still producing comparatively high levels of oestrogen, but bone density scans show early signs of fucking osteoporosis. I'm too young for an old woman's condition. And when my oestrogen levels fall to that of a post-menopausal woman, I'll begin to age. Prematurely. Before I'm old. Before my time. Skin elasticity will deteriorate, my bones may become brittle, and I envision that I'll turn into a shrivelled up hag.

Menopause, in itself, is obviously not a negative thing. It's something every woman will eventually go through. It's just hard to accept at the moment because my friends and their partners/husbands/wives are, on average, going through their second pregnancy and are dealing with parenting issues, just when they should be. No one I know can relate, and the early arrival in my case has brought regrets of missed opportunities. And fuck living with regret; it's a waste of time.

So, with my mid-life crisis, my hair is now dyed blonde, and cut into a cute, short bob (coz it really is all about the hair). Hurrah, perhaps the Porsche will be next?