Menopause makes you smell like a dude
Tis true - my meno has paused. Quite a long pause, actually, as it began two years ago and will end... well... never. And yes, I'm on the youngish side for meno-ellipsis, but young or old, there's never really an optimal time to start smelling like a dude.
It's embarrassing to admit, but I used to take pride in my neutral natural scent. I was one of the least stenchy women I knew, able to chuckle robustly over the fact that I didn't know the difference between antiperspirant and deodorant and didn't care because such rules did not apply to flowery-armpits moi.
Word to the wise: whatever you chuckle robustly over will come back to haunt you. Never, ever chuckle robustly.
You think I exaggerate, fair reader, but no. There was a time when I could have jogged five miles through the Sahara, changed into a sleeveless evening gown and gone straight to a cocktail party full of midgets with overly sensitive olfactory nerves and not one of them would have turned up their pert noses.
But as the old song says, "Those days are gone."
Reference point: that old song is Eric Carmen's "All By Myself." Which I fear I'm going to be singing frequently due to my new meno-dude-scent.
I first noticed it about six months ago while doing an exercise DVD. This was about a year and a half into my meno-on-to-infinity and I had been taking pride in the fact that I'd had few of the symptoms that I'd heard about, when suddenly I caught a whiff of something and had a slight reaction.
The slight reaction went something like this: "Holy crap, did an unbathed lumberjack/truck driver/Sumo wrestler just enter my abode?"
No. As you may have guessed, the Sumo was Su-me.
Since emanating the fragrance of a blue-collar worker was not one of the symptoms I knew of meno-suspension, I searched for the spiritual cause of my predicament - had I been too arrogant about my former delicate underarm bouquet? Isn't there a saying, "Pride goeth before a smell"? I finally came to my senses and did what all wise women in my situation do - no, I didn't ask my doctor, how very 20th century of you, I Googled. And this is what I found: "During menopause, as estrogen levels decrease, male hormone ratios are increased."
Resolution: after some mental math, I realized the reason I smelled like a dude was because I was now approximately 1/4 dude.
And so, fair reader, I'm left with a decision: I can either weep over my present machoroma, or I can see the perspiration glass as 1/4 full. After all, being part dude allows me a few privileges such as earning a fair paycheck, being able to stay in bed when I feel sick, and being able to pee on the side of the road because we can't find the rest stop because I refuse to ask for directions.
My sweat cup runneth over.