Single + Menopause + Intimates
...and the stone I inadvertently uncovered this past weekend in Italy
I had the urge to write about this trifecta of fun over the weekend after spending some time in an Italian “intimates” store shopping for brassieres, panties, and other intimate-type garments. It is a store I first remember seeing last summer while shopping in Bassano. I had come to Italy really wanting to buy lingerie in Italy. It felt like the thing to do when one is set to break free from the thing that has dominated their life for a dozen years AND has plans to spend four months abroad solo traveling.
I mean, no one was going to see it but me, but what if…
When you are single (never been married, no kids) at my age, you are a weird anomaly. Strangers (and friends alike let’s be clear) do not know what to think of you. Is there something wrong with you? Why?!?!?! A lot of the last one. I get asked that even more when traveling overseas.
For the record, I have never had as many cappuccinos and wine bought for me as I have this trip or had as many compliments from random men.
When you are single and in menopause, women wonder how you can feel and look so good and NOT be dating. Men do not know quite what to make of you. Period. They tend to have known only two type of women your age, ones who choose to slide into getting older just letting it happen. The other with a death grip on their twenties by whatever means necessary. The misunderstood (and underappreciated if I do say so myself) middle where I find myself is full of women who are not trying to be twenty, but neither are we going to embrace eighty while in our fifties.
For example, I feel as good today at fifty-three as I did in my mid-thirties.
In the past twelve months, I have had the gift of a lifetime in being able to take the time to put myself first. After a difficult discussion with my doctor days before flying to Italy a year ago, I knew that I had some tough decisions to make with him when I got back in the fall IF I did not get a handle on my own wellness. It wasn’t just my weight (which was at an all-time high). It wasn’t just stress (which was also at an all-time high). It was the source of those issues and a number of other issues from poor sleep to poor eating to poor activity level.
Can I stop now? It is embarrassing. I mean it isn’t like I did not know HOW to take care of myself, I simply refused to consistently put my own wellness first. There was always something or someone more important to handle. There is also some arrogance in me that I do not like to admit either. I have had some health challenges over the years, and I have always attacked them with the same tenacity I approach every problem in my life. Deal with it. Tweak. Adjust. Fix. Move on. My doctors would not applaud my approach either, but that will lead me down a path I have no interest in writing about today, here.
So, this past twelve months has been a Hail Mary of sorts on my part to deal with the part of me that refuses to put myself first and be consistent about it. I honestly had no idea my sabbatical would end up being the catalyst for this to actually work. It helped that I spent four months outside of the U.S. in countries, and around people, for whom quality food is a way of life. I also got used to walking everywhere. I also was having a real ‘Come to Jesus’ moment in looking at the rhythms and pace for which I had been living my life since literal childhood. I could go on, but you get the gist. By the time I got back to the states and saw my doctor, he was slack-jawed at the difference, but knowing me as he does, he asked, “Can you stick with it?” Fair. He wasn’t just talking about food or activity either. His biggest concern was would I jump back into a high-stress life, taking care of everybody at my own expense? Also, fair.
The truth is that I am a little uncomfortable with my own looks.
Growing up with a gorgeous mother, an older sister who was deemed “the beauty,” and a little sister who was deemed the sweet, cute one (and a beauty in her own right) did not leave a lot of oxygen in the room for me. It didn’t help that when I was hitting my awkward years, my parents were MIA, and my older sister used me as a verbal punching bag for all her inner rage and insecurity. When you are 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, etc., you do not know or understand all of the dynamics in your family impacting your life, your self-esteem. You just know how you feel and how others make you feel, and since they are the closest, most important people in your life, you trust that the words they use with you, to describe you, are 100% accurate. This is also true when the words are silence. In fact, I offer up my childhood as an example of how a MIA parent’s silence can harm as much as cruel words spoken to you. The message you receive is that you are not even worth bothering over. So, if the only other primary message you are receiving is that you are ugly, awkward, etc., then the silence only confirms that those messages are correct. I wish I were wrong about this. Years later, in a difficult conversation with my biological father, we discussed this very thing. He was horrified. He didn’t change his “silent” ways, but his horror at my experiences validated them in some small way.
What in the world does any of this have to do with shopping for intimates in Italy???
I will tell you.
When you choose to “get well” as I did back in 2012, it means you excavate your life. The things that make you, YOU. There is no stone you do not lift up and explore what is underneath it. What makes up the stone. I have done a lot of work. Just like you, I have a lot of stones. From things done to me. Things I did to myself and others. Choices I have made. Consequences. Habits.
All. The. Stones.
Well, one of those stones is my approach to taking care of me.
Mind/body/heart/soul.
For every stone, I have overturned in this quest, I have found one to a dozen more to deal with that are interconnected in some way. Therapy teaches that trauma causes us to become disconnected from ourselves. So, getting healthy means we are working to integrate the four primary parts of us into a fully function individual that is connected to all the parts of themself.
This further means that I have learned that something like a fun shopping trip in Italy to an intimates store that took me two trips over to make happen is about a lot more than brassieres and panties.
It was about joy and fun and reward (for how I feel today after treating myself well for a year) and hope (for a future I dream of with a man/partner) and healing (because it is 100% okay to think you look pretty damn good for a menopausal fifty-three-year-old, and dare I say are, “Sexy.”). It is about being okay that you are single and for now the only person who will be appreciating your purchases and how you look in them. It is about reminding yourself that the first person who needs to find you attractive is YOU.
I read this quote this morning about two fictional characters, “The thing I love is that he didn’t need to fix her. She was fixing herself for him.”
I do not need anyone to “fix” me. I can drive a stick, a tractor, and a backhoe. I have the full excavation and fixing of myself 100% under control. I also have no desire to “fix” anyone else.
What I need is for someone to value the work I have done on myself. Someone who has done their own work on themselves. Someone that sees life as an adventure in growth unwilling to settle for getting along.
I hope I never lose my curiosity for life. For people. For what makes that person them. For what makes me.
I hope that I am in my continued 50s, and then 60s, 70s, 80s still pushing myself to see or do or be whatever thing is around the corner. The place I have never been. The thing I have not yet done. The part of me I have yet to explore.
I woke up this morning to news of a friend’s family member who was just diagnosed with cancer. After responding back to them and praying for them and their family, I felt a fire in my belly. I mean, I am currently living in Italy fulfilling one of my professional dreams while also living out a dream season of life, and yet here I could feel the gratitude for my one life coupled with a sense of urgency to ponder what I still want to experience in my life. There is so much I will not get in my one lifetime, and it pains me deeply, but there is also SO much I can still experience.
Keep your eye on the ball, Heather.
I wish I had photos or videos of me from this weekend in the intimates shop. I was a hot mess of joy and nerves and horrific Italian. It was my own #EatPrayLove moment for certain. I also celebrated afterwards with a giant bowl of pasta and a glass of Prosecco. There was muscle memory activated in that little shop. What it is like to feel pretty, feminine, sexy, with a side of laughter rolled in. I think there were some young Heather wounds healed in that tiny dressing room.
Maybe some older Heather ones too. ;)
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Author’s Note: The beauty of women is we each get to choose how we want to approach aging. I have zero judgement for any woman’s choices, you do you. My words are what it feels like from my perspective and my perspective only.
You know I love this. Beautiful under garments and dressing to suit your tastes, your style and your body is powerful. When we can embrace our femininity and celebrate it, we are so much stronger.
Love love love this, Heather. Including the birds singing, and sounds of life in the background of your audio! Thanks for painting this picture of a perfect moment and giving it to the world. You don’t need to be told that you’re brilliant and fabulous, but you are. Brava!