Is it just me or is everybody talking about my ovaries?

When did the cone of silence around menopause become a megaphone? And is anyone else finding the rebranding of menopause just a little exhausting? By Leah McFall

Am I paranoid, or is everybody talking about my ovaries?

I ask this as a midlife woman. Everywhere I turn, it’s menopause, menopause, menopause. It’s all anyone wants to discuss and will probably be Word of the Year.

Menopause is no longer confined to clinics, seriously minded books and dusty radio conversations about low oestrogen. It’s become part of popular and entertainment culture – almost, dare I say it, cool.

You can listen to comedians discussing their symptoms on podcasts like Sweaty and Pi**sed. Or read a "rage novel" about a midlife heroine who’s had a gutsful. There are countless memoirs to choose from in bookshops, although Me & My Menopausal Vagina is a bold choice for the coffee table.

Or why not wear a novelty T-shirt to announce the twilight of your own cycle? Menopausal! Back Away Slowly! is doing brisk trade online.

Meanwhile there have never been so many famous women over 40 talking so openly about their bodily changes. Drew Barrymore once had two periods a month and says her first hot flush happened on camera. Michelle Obama had one on the presidential helicopter. Salma Hayek says her doctor wanted to know if she’d grown a moustache or her ears were bigger. And don’t get me started on Gwyneth.

I know – this is all excellent progress. For generations there was a weird cone of silence around menopause, disempowering women like me. We knew something was going to happen to us from around the age of 45 but couldn’t be sure what, exactly when, or how much havoc it would cause. Waiting for menopause felt helpless, like waiting for a twister to flatten the farm.

Then my talkative generation grabbed that cone of silence and held it up like a megaphone, demanding access to information, treatments, and the right to understanding and respect. Women are better positioned than ever to control our midlife health and this is righteous and overdue.

That said, is anyone else worn out? The New Menopause has had a makeover, leaving the set frazzled and furious and coming back with shapely triceps and a blow-wave. Menopause might signal the natural powering down of one’s oestrogen, but it’s fast becoming an invitation to power up one’s life. For reinvention, Oprah has suggested. For kicking ass and taking names.

Now we have the tools, it is implied, middle-aged women have the option of remaining sexy, charismatic, fit, and successful. We can use this as a chance to optimise ourselves. Once we’ve got over being body-slammed by our hormones, why vanish into the walls in public or at work? All we need is to change our diets, mindsets, and beauty routines. If only we do the work, we can still count.

This is often dressed up in the soothing language of helping other women. Naomi Watts has a skincare range inspired by her own midlife experience, which apparently felt like being dangled by an ape from the Empire State Building. “As an actor, I’ve outrun tsunamis and come face to face with King Kong,” she says on her website. “But nothing prepared me for early menopause.”

Helpfully, she has a serum for that. And herbal tablets. And creams. Elle Macpherson, too. It’s amazing how quickly the needle moves when a market opens up. Macpherson’s hair used to be dry and brittle, she tells us, but thanks to her wellness products, it isn’t now.

Where’s the option of not powering up in my 50s or reinventing myself? What if I like the person I already am (a bit naff, in bad jeans?). I might have earned a harmless bit of padding around the tummy and hips. If I’m going to fall over when I’m an old lady, I’d prefer to bounce. And stop selling me wild yam tablets as a way to take the edge off my temper. The reason I’m cross might just be other people, and you can’t take a pill to change them.

I know I should be exercising more mindfully and eating more pickle and less cake, but you can’t tell me I’m going to lose my humour, libido, muscle mass, bone strength, any chance of a decent sleep, my ability to remember why I came into the room, nice hair, good skin and the very jelly of my cells, and then take away everything that brings me pleasure. What if I’d rather spend my spare time reading than doing Pilates against a wall? I’d like to have a lazy menopause.

Also, whose business of anyone else’s is my hair, thinning or otherwise? Let alone the plumpness of my lips? And may I invite them to stay out of my knickers? I’d like to tell Naomi Watts exactly where she can stick her $50 intimate hydrating gel, but it appears from her website that it's already there.

I wish to reject this opportunity to improve myself, and I’m seeking inspiration from the French. Lately I’ve been watching a series about upscale Parisians and their stylish apartments and surprisingly, all the women over 40 appear unkempt. I’ve never seen so much unbrushed hair or unsuccessful partings. They look like they ate breakfast with a leaf blower. None of them gives a merde.

They’re not all thin, either, yet love a sleeveless dress or a spaghetti strap. Why hide their arms, wrinkles or tums? They haven’t assigned deep significance to midlife and seem to be the same people they always were - pleasing themselves, bossing their families, running a business, stopping all work for a decent lunch and hoovering up cheese.

They’re undeniably fabulous, not because they’re mainlining black cohosh supplements or slathering their necks in anti-ageing Fountain of Glow. It’s because their culture still takes them seriously as lovers, workers, carers and citizens. As the French famously say, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

There’s nothing to improve here, and that’s what I want for my own menopause. Not to put in the hours to be the optimal person I could be, but to be seen for who I am, today – not as productive as I could be, a bit fed up, and my hair going three ways.

Leah McFall is a writer based in Wellington. Read more of her work on leahmcfall.substack.com.

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