Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret, a Menopausal Woman With Questions

Are you there, God? I’m back. I know it’s been awhile, but remember when I was praying for my first period? I would have prayed for a date with David Cassidy, instead, if I’d known that when the Lord taketh away the monthly period He would giveth me menopause.

God, honestly, I know I should be grateful for that period; How else would I have gotten out of gym class in middle school? But what’s with the irregular periods now, God? They’re keeping me on the edge of my seat. Every seat. Know who doesn’t want to wonder if  “Aunt Flo” is going to visit me during a meeting presentation? Me, that’s who!

God? It’s me again. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. My best friend, Nancy, who still lives next door, says she doesn’t have menopausal mood swings. Know what else Nancy doesn’t have? A husband and kids to annoy her!

Why does Newton’s third law say that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction but if I eat one 3.6 oz chocolate chip cookie it turns into 10 lbs. on my scale?

I’m back, God. Why is the hair on my head thinning but now I’m rocking a goatee? Is this normal?

Are you there, God? Remember when I asked you for breasts and you told me if I just exercised I’d get the breasts I wanted? Really, I’m not complaining, but did you know they’d end up looking like tube socks half-filled with yogurt?

By the way, my vaginal orifice is as dry as an English tea biscuit.  I’ve tried so many oils that my nether region feels like a niçoise salad. Should I buy Astroglide even if I feel silly buying something that sounds like a Marvel superhero?

Not that I give a rip, God, but my libido is lower than my disappointment after kissing Philip when we played “two minutes in the closet” that one time. Which I guess is why you created wine?

Are you there, God? I wanted to ask you about….damn….I forgot.

So, God, setting aside the fact that I’ve turned into my mother, are the hot flashes really necessary? I should have the fire department on speed dial for as many times as I’m “en fuego.”

And God, who knew that “the change” was going to refer to our elected politicians taking women’s reproductive rights back to the Victorian Age? Next I’ll hear that teachers can’t show photos of Michelangelo’s statue of David in class. Oh? That’s a thing?  Well how are kids ever going to develop unrealistic expectations of what a penis looks like without Renaissance art?

In the future, God, it looks like you’re going to have a lot more questions from women like me, our children, and our grandchildren. And I hope you’ll answer our questions, as well as our prayers. Particularly from the kids in the red states.