Middle Ages

Hot Takes on Hot Flashes (Not on My Watch)

So, I may expand my coverage from drinking-related bits to broader themes–at least from time to time. I’m definitely not going to stop drinking. I implemented “Drygust” last month in a misguided attempted to de-chunk a little before a vacation and ended up gaining two pounds (so middle-aged, amirite?). (Argh, and now two months have passed since I originally wrote this and I’ve gained another 8 pounds–SSRIs are not my friend.)

I’ve decided to revive this as a standalone blog and go hard on the subject. I’ve had four years (Jesus) to acclimate to the notion of middle-age, and I’m starting to come around and make peace with it. It’s not a bad place to be.

But if I’m being honest, half the impetus is being driven by an unwinnable internal inter-generational feud and the need to claim what’s mine. Each passing year means millennials get that much closer to owning bone loss and comfortable shoes. The oldest in that cohort will be hitting 40 in five years, and we’re never going to hear the end of of it. Hot takes on hot flashes, making atrophied vaginas cool (yes, I’m obsessed with shriveled vaginas). 

I will not let that stand (even if it requires a cane)!

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