ONE of the unfortunate conditions of aging in a woman is losing our supple skin. The skin sags in all the wrong places, the face takes on a hangdog look as jowls start forming.
Keeping the weight down becomes a bit more challenging. When it was so easy once to devour a slice of cake, or stuff our faces with potato chips when we were in our 20s, the fats, sugars and calories start making their presence felt on the hips, tummy and thighs when we start crossing into our 40s and 50s.
Good luck if we have enough financial resources for a nip and tuck here, or a lift there. And even if we do, we’re still saddled with fears of looking like the rest of our cosmetic surgeon’s patients. (Seriously, take a look at some of our actresses, and you can pick out who among them go to the same doctor for their face-lifts.)
I’ve never really been a fan of cosmetic or plastic surgery, just because I’m terminally afraid of physicians and doctors. So, despite losing some of that youthful glow and with more inches to spare around the waist, I have yet to seriously consider going under the knife to trim off the extra adipose tissues. These physical “defects” don’t really bother me as much, because I know I’m still basically the same person inside. Besides, my brain keeps insisting that I’m still somewhere between 35 and 45…hahaha!
What is harder to deal with, now that I’m a golden girl, is the heat. Not because it is probably officially the summer season, despite Pagasa’s hesitation to declare it so, but more specifically because of the hot flashes. I started feeling these about two years ago, as my sexy bodeh (!) started changing internally, losing its reproductive ability. Mayo Clinic describes this stage as “perimenopause”, which really means “around menopause”, and says women can begin feeling its effects—one of these being menstrual irregularity, and, yes, those darned hot flashes—as early as one’s 30s (https://mayocl.in/2ntYoQA).
I was first among the girlfriends to experience this, perhaps it’s because I became a “woman” when I was just 11 years young. And when we’d dine at restaurants, they would laugh whenever I’d ask to be seated facing the aircon, or physically grab a nearby electric fan to move it closer to cool me down. But no amount of air-conditioning or any of those large Iwata evaporative coolers would give me permanent relief.
I’d be all cool and chatty, boisterously laughing at the girls’ latest gossip, then suddenly the sweat would literally seep out from every pore of my body. The heat is tremendous, starting from my forehead, then quickly radiating to the rest of my body, reaching the extremities. Then out comes the face towel, and I’m dabbing my entire face and both arms to absorb the perspiration, as well as the abanico to furiously fan myself. (Now you know why my bags are huge! Too many stuff in there to help ease my discomforts.)
Then as quickly as the hot flashes come, they’re gone. I regain my composure and feel at ease again in my body. But it’s been a bitch to deal with, and my electric bill is proof of that. It just has to be on far longer than most people have theirs on, because the hot flashes don’t stop even when the body is at rest. I’ll go to bed with the duvet covering me but in the middle of the night, I kick it off as I sweat in my bed. Ugh.
Aside from the night sweats, it’s more difficult for me to get a good, straight eight-hour sleep. I will wake up about three times during my regular sleep cycle, and I have to take a few sips of water as air-conditioning parches the throat. I’d also need go to the bathroom to pee, because I drink a lot of water. It’s just insane. It’s a miracle I still haven’t actually kicked anyone in the mall.
And, yes, I have tried a number of natural treatments for all these symptoms, from soymilk (except that my internist tells me it will elevate my uric acid, so I’ve had to decrease my intake of that) to herbal supplements made of black cohosh, or evening primrose oil, plus pills with natural estrogen whose name I now forget, courtesy of my ob-gyn. She says I could try hormone-replacement therapy (HRT), since my annual mammograms and breast ultrasounds don’t show any predisposition to breast cancer. With HRT, estrogen and progesterone can either be taken orally or through injections, relieving me of these symptoms. But the other risks to HRT include an increased predisposition to stroke and heart disease, of which our family has a history. So I had to thumb that down.
How to survive our perimenopausal and menopausal years? My ob-gyn says basically we should eat healthy, drink plenty of fluids and exercise. (I only have one of the three down pat, so I guess it makes me a third surviving.) She tells me to forgo beef, because it increases the heat in the body. (Oh, but a really good steak is heaven! Gasp.) More fish and vegetables are the best, she says, although she allows me to consume lamb. And avoid coffee. Gah. I have cut down my coffee intake to just a cup—OK, a mug!—after lunch. But I can’t completely give up the java, because it helps me think and work better.
Other than that, ladies, we just have to ride this out. And for some, as my older female friends and relatives warn me, these symptoms can take a while to abate. (Sure, what’s another God-given infliction we women have to suffer?!) But do see your ob-gyn, because she can give you the best remedy to deal with this condition.
For practical advice, I’d just say, when going out, make sure the destination is cool, and wear light, comfortable clothing. (I do miss sitting outdoors, dining al fresco because the inside air-conditioning is a far more attractive option.) As I said earlier, bring a face towel and a fan to help ease the momentary heat-induced discomfort. And take a lot of cold showers. (Sorry MWSS!) And while y’all do that, I’ll be sitting still in my air-conditioned room and just hope this terrible stage ends soon.