I vividly remember sensing the tell-tale wetness between my thighs that signalled the need to change my tampon. I remember how horrible it was if it happened in the middle of an important meeting. The dread of leaving a stain on my clothes, or worse, the chair – why must they be upholstered in cream? I remember the impossibility of concentrating as I obsessed over impending mortification. I knew that the meeting that would laugh at a fart would gasp in horror at a spreading red stain.
It’s been 13 wonderful years since I last had a period. I call this stage of life the sunny uplands of post menopause. It’s why I believe that, contrary to conventional wisdom, ageing is easier for women than men. Some things in our lives vastly improve – for blokes it’s all deficit. It’s amazing how much head space not bleeding every 28 days can free up.
