Help! Ever Since Perimenopause, My Virginity is Back With A Vengeance! 😂
Yup, no one’s getting in there... Not without a super yacht full of KY⛵🌊
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Fellow Empresses,
How the hell are you? Hollywood may be on strike, but we have quite the little comedy sketch for you. This one’s saucy…
We open on a crowded pharmacy. Think... gray, flickering fluorescent shampoo aisles, a line of twenty-odd restless customers all staring down at their phones, the 80s band Air Supply crooning mournfully overhead “I'm all out of love. I'm so lost without you...” right as the pimply checkout guy announces over the PA system, “ALISA JONES, your VAGINAL ATROPHY cream is ready for pickup!”
Good God! Did that pasty little twat just call me a dried-up old c*nt in front of all these people?
(Question: Do we think that’s a perm?)
I freeze. OK, think fast, Jonesy, best to take this in the other direction, so I say to no one in particular, “Yep! That's me, at 47, my virginity is back with a vengeance... And this time, NO is her final answer,” which elicits a few hearty guffaws.
“Thanks...” I squint at the checkout guy’s name tag, “Thanks so much, Brian.” As I snatch up the goods and bolt for the nearest exit.
It's not like it was any better earlier at the OB/GYN. With my regular out on maternity leave, I was stuck with her backup, an elderly gentleman physician who was about as dusty as my va-jay-jay.
So there I am… feet in the stirrups, and he's not saying a word. I could have explained things over the phone. So, I finally say it: “Look, it’s basically the Sahara down there. Lawrence of Arabia could come trotting out at any time...” Live footage of my va-jay-jay:
He chuckles. Still says nothing.
"Except, he’d have to be quite a pint-sized Lawrence as my vagina feels like it’s shrunk to the size of a Polly Pocket pencil skirt." But Dr. Blah-Blah-Blah doesn’t even know who Polly Pocket is.
“Is intercourse painful?” he asks. And I realize, they really can’t just say “sex" can they?
“Oh, no one’s getting in there... Not without a superyacht full of KY. Yeah, it’s pretty ouchy. But given I'm also having torrential night sweats, non-stop hormonal acne, and hot flashes, I’m not exactly at my most alluring?”
“Well, it's just menopause,” he says unhelpfully. "I'll prescribe something." I hear the snap of the latex gloves coming off. "You can get dressed.” And that was it.
Which is HOW I ended up in the pharmacy admitting to a room full of people that my virginity was back to the soundtrack of an 80s power ballad. But what really makes me mad is that this whole mortifying situation could have been avoided.
After doing some digging online and reading other women’s stories, I learned that most OB/GYNs have less than four hours of training in treating peri/menopause symptoms during their entire time in medical school. It’s no wonder he’d had so little to say!
To be honest, I looked at several different providers before I stumbled upon women’s peri/menopause healthcare specialist Winona. What sold me was the site’s ease of use, the customer service, and the willingness of their doctors to engage with my other doctors—as I have a seizure disorder that only started when I hit perimenopause.
In any case, within minutes, I completed their questionnaire; the next day I took part in a telemedicine appointment with an actual doctor where I was able to ask all of my questions about common symptoms, potential medication interactions, allergies, etc. Together, we came up with a plan, and then within three days I had my treatment pack — which included the very same vag cream I’d been publicly shamed for, arriving discreetly on my doorstep — no dismissive doctors, no lines to wait in, and, best of all, NO humiliating pharmacy confessions required.
Within three weeks, things down there were pretty much back to normal, i.e., temperate conditions. No more agonizingly dry Sahara! And the Polly Pockets pencil skirt situation definitely had a little more give now. I did a quick check-in appointment with the Winona doctor to adjust my dosage slightly and that cleared up my stubborn hormonal acne. It was like... suddenly, I was a functioning person again, lol.
To be clear, I still go to my original woman OB/GYN whom I love and have been with for years for all my regular visits. But for the perimenopause treatment, the best part was I didn't have to go back to the pharmacy. I set up an auto-refill plan, and it was one less thing to worry about as I figure out this next big phase of my life and realize that it was not the end. If anything, I feel like I'm just getting started.
OK, that’s the skinny this week on the latest indignities of peri/menopause… I think the thing to remember is that not everyone is going to be a candidate for hormone-based treatments, but there are advancements being made every day to address symptoms. In my own case, I couldn’t take the standard-issue birth control pills my OB/GYN had prescribed for menopause. In fact, they caused such an adverse reaction with my other medications that I needed all the doctors to talk to each other and get my dosages adjusted down—but that’s when modern medicine actually starts working for women—when there’s better communication across the different practice silos, specialist areas of expertise, and partners.
Coming up in our next post, we return to our Menopause & Money series with an amazing expert in Long Term Care & financial planning. Now, it may not feel sexy, but there’s nothing better than having your besties by your side to laugh with… as you venture down the midlife road. Until then, remember… you are wise AF!
Yours in Grandeur,
*A special edition of this piece can be found on Scary Mommy.
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Hilarious!! Superyacht of KY!! The rubber gloves snapping off. That is one sound every woman knows in her sleep.
My OB told me to buy a package of plastic phallic tools and to shove them up and down in my vajayjay. That was supposed to help invigorate the thin skin. Huh? Not.
I wish there was a ‘love’ button. I’ll have to tell my husband to think of sex like I’m a virgin each and every time! 😂
And to get out the super yacht! (I will never look at them the same way again.) Although I do always equate them with men’s wishful penis size.