Unlike a lot of women I know, I remember looking forward to menopause. I imagined it as a time of freedom and an unshackling from the many inconveniences of periods. That was before I knew about perimenopause…

There is a narrative that portrays this stage of life as a deficit position (lack of fertility) and as a nuisance (it can be) but I’m hoping we can change the general attitude in time for our daughters and granddaughters.

Menopause

At last, she arrives

And I embrace her –

A long-awaited accomplice.

‘Such a lovely change to be

Welcomed warmly’, she winks.

She’s not what I expected.

No mumsy twinset and pearls

Or purple leopard-print activewear.

She is elegance and confidence,

Her dress a kaleidoscope

Glittering with her eyes.

We relax into armchairs,

Sipping tea,

At ease with each other.

‘My favourites,’ she says

Reaching for the biscuits

And building a lopsided pile

On the arm rest.

I’ve learnt so much, I tell her.

My worth isn’t measured by

The length of men’s stares,

Or numbers on a scale.

I’m more than a reproductive system,

No longer bound by a cycle

Of inconvenience and mood swings.

She stops mid-sip,

A sideways glance.

‘About those mood swings…’

I tell her more about my change –

The sloughing of crippling expectations

And the moulting of attitudes –

Happy to be moving on

From the burden of blood.

She devours another biscuit

And nods.

‘New you. Make your own rules.’

I will, I say,

Reaching for the usually

Forbidden second biscuit.

And third.

_{(Nadia Mead, 2021)}