Part 2: Menopause, Mood Swings & Middle Finger Energy

So, where were we?

Ah yes...mid-hot flash, emotionally checked out, keys missing, and a new chin hair staking its claim like it pays rent.

Menopause. The slow burn. The uninvited guest who moved in, rearranged the furniture, and refuses to leave. They say it has 34 symptoms. I say it has personality disorders. And just when you think you’ve got it figured out, it morphs again like a shape-shifting ex with no sense of boundaries.

Now, I could write a whole damn anthology on each bizarre symptom (I see you, burning tongue), but for now, let’s spotlight the divas of this hormonal soap opera the headliners of the hot mess express.

1. Hot Flashes

One minute you’re fine, the next you're spontaneously combusting from the inside out.

There you are at brunch laughing, glowing and suddenly you’re ripping off layers and tugging at your doekie, side-eyeing the aircon like it owes you child support. It’s not sexy. It’s sweaty.

2. Night Sweats

Sleep? She ghosted.

Now I’m starfished on top of the covers, pillow flipped, lying diagonally like a sweaty crime scene while bruh clings to the edge of the mattress or retreats to his man cave entirely.

I live in Brunei (read: toasty on any given day). I should’ve immigrated to Iceland. Or a walk-in freezer.

3. Mood Swings

From giddy to gutted, from joy to sad to numb in 60 second, yoyo-ing because someone sent you a thumbs-up and texted “K”! 

Use your words, Bruh!

In…Out…In…breathe and HOLD…HOLD…HOLD…

Doh

Love the headiness from the holding because right after comes clarity and I no longer care, I value the peace above being right, or loved, or entertained.

4. Brain Fog

Walked into the kitchen with a plan.

Now I’m standing in front of the fridge like it’s a portal to another universe, scooping peanut butter straight from the jar, no pants in sight, no clue what I came for.

Brain fog makes us adorably feral. And honestly? I’m fine with that.

5. Weight Gain

Stretchy waistbands are a lifestyle. And listen, everything’s rounder now but he’s all handsy and soft bodies are just better in bed.

Eat the bread. Lick the spoon. Worship your curves. Jiggle the rolls. Life is too damn short to count almonds.

Only more to love, baby.

6. Insomnia

Naps? Pure bliss. Especially the accidental ones.

But the real insomnia party kicks off at 2am, maybe 3. You’re wide awake, replaying that one awkward thing you said in 2009.

Here’s the move: make friends in other time zones. Entertain yourself. And send your inner critic to the naughty corner... permanently.

Let your inner siren take the wheel.

7. Vaginal Dryness

Yeah, we’re going there.
But isn’t that what lube and layered fantasies are for?

Just asking… for a friend.

8. Anxiety

When your inner voice sounds less like a wise queen and more like a bitchy heckler.
Suddenly you’re doubting everything, your haircut, your career, your use of the word “thanks.”
No more.

We’re done letting anxiety call the shots.

Blast Coldplay, scream into a pillow, dance in your underwear. Take back your breath and your badassery.

9. Hair Changes

You lose it where you want it (scalp, brows) and sprout it where you absolutely don't (chin, nipples, toes...yes, toes).
That tickle on your chin? Not a kiss.

It’s betrayal.

Tweezer: never leave home without it.

10. Fatigue

Not tired. Soul tired.
The kind of exhaustion no amount of kale, journaling, or sun salutations can fix.
Bless coffee for staying loyal when everything else checks out.

And When It’s Too Much?

We turn to our sisters. Because no one gets it like they do.

Farida:
“No HRT. Just hot flushes, which I managed without medication. Alghamdulillah.”

Jatha:
“It’s like a chronic illness with no sympathy. A thief in the night… yet it shows how strong and resilient women are. We just carry on.”

Exactly.
We may be hot. We are definitely tired. Possibly a little loopy.
But we are still here. Still showing up. Still powerful.

Menopause isn’t a crisis. It’s a full-body, full-soul metamorphosis. Like childbirth. Like heartbreak. Like dodgy neon fashion from the 80's, the 1980's (yes, I'm that old).

We will get through it.

Not always gracefully, but always gloriously real.
And that, my friends, is the point.
With sweat, sass, and solidarity,

Much love

Aunty Nariman

Ps. Part 3?