I could feel my body shouting, “Here comes mid-life!” and that wasn’t something I wanted to face yet, especially since my husband is still in his early 30s. But, I found myself standing in front of an airport bookstore display. It was filled top to bottom with: Don’t Sweat It by Nicky Pellegrino. A menopause book. I wrestled over whether to buy it. Picked it up. Put it back down again.
I knew once I’d read it, I couldn’t unread it. I would know what I was heading into. I’d know all the horrors of menopause and ageing as a woman, and I’d have to face them. I wouldn’t be able to pretend I was ageing-backwards anymore, like I’d been joking about with my much younger husband.
Watch: Do we need a new word for middle-aged? Post continues after video.
Our age gap love has never been an issue. At 31 his beard is turning white in patches, while at 43 I still haven’t found a single grey hair on my head. But ageing with a husband who is 12 years younger feels a little scary. We’ve only been married a year and when we started dating three years ago, I convinced myself the age difference wouldn’t matter. And it doesn’t. It hasn’t.
But will it matter when I’m menopausal? Will it matter when my skin loses its elasticity and my body changes and morphs into a mid-life body while he’s still in his 30s or 40s?
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