still hot (even if I'm overheating)

I am in perimenopause.

I mean, it’s not official, official. I still haven’t received the official blood results from my doctor yet. But the night sweats — the kind where you wake up convinced someone replaced your duvet with a sauna — the irregular menstrual cycle, and the occasional hot flash are telling me — girl, your body is changing.

There’s a type of grief that I don’t think really gets discussed when we talk about this phase of our life. Like… who am I now? This is bigger than a midlife crisis. This isn’t like, oh, what have I done with my life? I better buy a convertible and date someone younger (although I did start dating younger after I turned 40). This is… your body is changing, and there is no going back.

What’s wild is that we haven’t really seen accurate portrayals of this phase in pop culture. We’ve seen “midlife crises.” We’ve seen women unravel. We’ve seen the suddenly dissatisfied wife, the “crazy” ex, the woman who just needs a spa weekend. But we rarely call it what…