An article from Reuters,
dated April 9, 2007:
“Low hormone level linked to sexual dysfunction:
Menopausal women twice as likely to report problems, study finds”
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18024478/
So, now they're tagging menopausal and post-menopausal women as “dysfunctional” if they aren’t horny and don’t come fast like bunny rabbits every time they do it? Jesus. Can we get a break here? First, all the poor old men are told that they aren’t man enough if they can’t get it up until the day they day, spurring the unrestrained manufacturing of what I like to call “Grandma Bane,” and what the drug companies like to call “erectile dysfunction medication.”
See, the thing is, a natural aspect of menopause is that drop in hormone levels that leads to the falling away of the sex drive’s intensity. It’s what’s supposed to happen! It’s not a dysfunction!
And it’s logical. We’re not child bearers any more. We don’t need to keep screwing five times a day. Neither do our honored companions, the Grandpa’s. This is the time in life when we are supposed to put our energy elsewhere – like in leading our grown children toward productive parenting, or world travel or whatever; like contributing something meaningful to the world, now that we’ve matured enough to realize that life isn’t all about getting laid all the time and buying new clothes to attract men’s attention.
But, now that grandpa is running around with his stiff member sticking out in front of his old pudding belly all the time like a wrinkly, blotchy old rhino horn, grandma’s got to get with it, too? Ehew. Give it rest, Grandpa.
And you, too Pfizer. Focus on curing, oh, I don't know, ocular histoplasmosis, maybe? Or inflammatory breast cancer? How about a test for early detection of ovarian cancer, maybe? Or, I know, an antidepressant that will create the sort of brain changes that allow a person to get off the drug eventually? With fMRIs, I think that's possible now, folks. Get some Tibetan meditators in there, use them as your baseline sample.
And really, even when we’re talking about the 50-somethings (as 50 is the new thirty), how ready to perform do we have to be, ladies? OK, I’m not quite 50 yet; I’ve got a couple years to go. But I’m starting to look in that direction, see where I’m going, and to identify more with the 50 set than the 40. And I can tell you, my sex drive is not, at almost-50, anything near what it was at 40-ish. (And 40-ish felt like normal, after twenty years of a sex drive so annoyingly and persistently strong that it would have made Hugh Heffner look like a slouch.)
Identifying, then, upwardly, I feel compelled to demand my Lady-Rights. I have finally reached an age when I feel comfortable wearing a silk scarf around my neck, and pearls in the day time. I have reached Lady Age. It was hard work getting here. I’ve kept myself, minus occasional journeys into chubbiness, fairly nicely preserved, I believe, and without “work” of any kind upon my physical form. In other words, I’ve passed entirely out of girldom, and while I will always be a woman, I can now also claim to be a Lady. As a Lady, I refuse to be pressured into taking drugs to up my sex drive by exactly the same jerks and cultural forces that are leading my sisters to anesthetized self-mutilation ("cosmetic surgery") on operating tables the world over. I just refuse. The Cult of Youth is way out of control: Look young. Screw young. Be horny like you’re young or you're not worth the skin you’re using up. Wrong! There is so much beauty in age. There is wisdom and kindness and the joy of taking one's time. And I really do think that wrinkles and grey hair, on a healthy woman who glows from the inside, and cares for herself because she loves who she really is, well -- I think that's all beautiful. And on men, too. And a man who appreciates a woman who is his equal, even in age? That's sexy. And sexy, BTW, doesn't always mean hopping in the sack.
Yes, sometimes I still feel like looking the Hot Babe part. And sometimes I do still feel like, well, having sex. Ok. Fine, if it’s internally motivated. But if you’re going to tell me that when I come out on the other side of menopause I’m supposed to be ready to get it on as if that menopause never happened, well then, you can just go jump in a lake somewhere. That’s just silly. If I happen to want to all on my own, well, that’s another story. But my God, can a woman just get some rest around here, please? And I'll tell you what -- horny old men? Or old men so weak in the ego and preternaturally immature that you must keep fucking every six minutes in order to fell good about yourselves? Or you can't stay out of the porn or the strip clubs long enough to deflate that Viagra-induced blasphemy you call a Johnson? We don't need you, anyway. We prefer a little more substance to our men. How about a conversation? Or a good meal? We'll wait around for those guys. They're more fun, anyway.
Or how about a man who is sick of seeing women promoted -- or promote themselves -- as objects of pleasure? After all, this I'm talking about here? This is what that's come to. And, Hey Ladies! if we're going to buy into it -- all the implants and botoxes and drugs to make us horny and stripper poles and youth cults and blow jobs on first dates and any other "Just let me make myself into what you want me to be, Baby," crap you want to point to -- we're just about as guilty as any They we can name.
Ladies of the World Unite!
We will not betray ourselves with surgeries and drugs!
We will let neither the culture, men, nor one another convince us that:
We have to stay firm and wrinkle-free forever,
We must have bosoms of a certain size to be beautiful, or
That grey hair is ugly.
Instead, we Pledge that we will:
Love our wrinkles!
Love our movable flesh!
Love our wimpy sex drive!
We will love ourselves as we are!
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