All my life I cared what people thought of me. As a teenager I cared that my feet were too big to be a ballerina and that I wasn’t blonde like all the pretty girls.
I cared that all the other kids had the right kind of Superga trainers and Benetton sweaters, whereas I had normal plimsolls and chain store jumpers.
I cared about fitting in (I didn’t), about whether I was thin enough or fun enough (neither). Was I clever enough, cool enough, did I listen to the right music (none of the above)?
I cared so much, other kids could smell it on me. It made me a target for bullies, this desperate desire to fit in, and – sensing my weakness – they exploited it ruthlessly, as kids do.
Getting older, it got worse. I grew up to be an inveterate people-pleaser. At work, in my relationships, with friends – I never dared say no because I cared too much about rejection.
I let boyfriends walk all over me, putting up with all kinds of nonsense, grateful for the tiniest crumb of approval. I worked long hours for no extra pay, never complained, always just thankful for the opportunity.
How have I managed this miracle of self-empowerment? Yoga? Meditation? Therapy? Microdosing magic mushrooms (very fashionable these days, or so I’m told)?
For years, this carried on, through marriage, children, career, life in general.
And then one day, about five years ago, it just stopped, almost overnight. I opened my eyes one morning and realised I had simply no f***s left to give.
Well, not quite: there are some people very dear to me whose opinions and approval I will always value. But as a general rule, that particular cupboard is bare.
How have I managed this miracle of self-empowerment? How have I stopped trying to be it all, have it all, do it all? Yoga? Meditation? Therapy? Microdosing magic mushrooms (very fashionable these days, or so I’m told)?
None of the above. I just stopped taking my HRT.
Now I know this runs counter to all current medical advice and I’m not advocating that this is what any woman reading this should do. We are all different and what works for one person may not work for another. But hear me out.
The perceived wisdom is that the menopause is a curse. A tragedy, a disaster, a loss of femininity and self – and something that must be remedied immediately with hormone replacement. Ideally, we are told, women should stay on it forever.
For a long time, I subscribed to this mantra. I started the menopause early – around 47. It hit me like a freight train: mood swings, brain fog, weight gain, disturbed sleep, zero sex drive, hot flushes, exhaustion – the works.
I was always a bit of a slave to my hormones, the kind of woman who had about three normal days a month when I wasn’t pre or post-menstrual, so it made sense that the menopause would not be easy.
HRT was a total salvation. It alleviated the worst of the symptoms and allowed me to function semi-normally as my body adjusted. But as I eased into my early 50s, I began to taper off.
There was a shortage during Covid, so I started taking it every other day. I didn’t feel any difference and none of my symptoms returned, so I eventually stopped altogether.
To my surprise, nothing bad happened. It appeared I had weathered the storm and come out the other side, post-menopausal, HRT free – and apparently none the worse for it.
Post-menopausal women are popularly supposed to be pale shadows of their former selves: passed by, by the rest of the world. But my experience has been entirely the opposite.
I’ve never felt happier or more confident than I do today, in my barren, hormone-free state. OK, so my skin may not have quite the same bloom, my neck wobbles too much when I laugh, my legs look like an Ordnance Survey map – but who cares? Not me!
Best of all, there is a curious mental clarity and calm to this hormone-free existence of mine. It’s positively liberating.
The only explanation I can think of is that I am no longer compelled by my hormones to be nice to people, or pretend I don’t mind when people hurt me, or just suck it up when they say nasty things.
Is this what it’s like to be a man? No wonder they’ve been in charge for so long. I don’t feel, as I always did, that I somehow ought to apologise for my existence. I don’t care if the entire room – hell, the entire world – disagrees with me.
If you don’t like it, that’s up to you. My biological clock has finally stopped ticking and the silence is absolutely golden.
I didn’t realise this at the time, of course, but it now seems to me that, far from being an ending, the menopause is actually a beginning, a superpower of sorts.
Without it I certainly wouldn’t have had the courage to finally stand up to my father, or walk away from an unhappy marriage – or, for that matter, write the kind of honest and unflinching memoir that seems to have put a few noses more delicate than mine out of joint.
Now I finally understand that famous poem Warning by Jenny Joseph: ‘When I am an old woman I shall wear purple/With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me/And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves/And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter… and make up for the sobriety of my youth.’
I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
Pop star Lizzo after her dramatic weight loss, left, and before
Lizzo looks much healthier now that she’s lost a few stone.
No doubt the old Lizzo – always defiantly defensive of her plus-size image – would disagree.
But the new Lizzo is, I suspect, too busy enjoying her newfound figure to care.
You know what they say: nothing tastes as good as Mounjaro feels!
Account clothed…
Some while ago I wrote about how my Vinted account had been inexplicably frozen.
Since then, I have made innumerable attempts to reactivate it, to no avail.
Nor am I able to access the funds that I’ve earned from sales. So I’m now giving up and will be deleting the app.
Well done, Vinted: you’ve wasted several hours of my few remaining years – and swindled me out of £62.50.
Tom Felton, who played Malfoy, is one of the only ones of the original cast not to have thrown JK Rowling to the trans wolves
Ironic that Draco Malfoy, the ultimate Harry Potter baddie, turns out to be the one with the most moral courage.
Tom Felton, who played Malfoy in the films and is starring on Broadway in Harry Potter And The Cursed Child, is one of the only ones of the original cast not to have thrown its author JK Rowling to the trans wolves as Emma Watson and Daniel Radcliffe have done – even though they owe her their entire careers. A class act.
How incredibly cynical of Greta Thunberg that she point-blank refused to watch the footage of the October 7 massacre which the Israeli authorities tried to show her.
Like so many of her generation, she prefers to suck on the teat of internet propaganda rather than face the inconvenient truth.
Kemi Badenoch is right to say she won’t see constituents at her MP’s surgery if they insist on wearing face coverings, including the burka.
Quite apart from the security issues (both Jo Cox and David Amess were murdered during their surgeries), why should she be forced to talk to a piece of cloth?
Search for Alas Vine & Hitchens on Apple, Spotify and wherever you get your podcasts now. New episode released every Wednesday.
