Dancing through menopause

Making a rare trip to Holt Renfrew about five years ago, I immediately headed for the lingerie department. About an hour later, emerging from the Toronto store carrying a telltale bag, I ran into a friend. “What have you got there?” she asked. I reached in, unwrapped the tissue paper and pulled out a slinky, mauve nightie that was backless and almost strapless, and shimmered in the late afternoon sun. She stared at it for a few seconds, looked up at me and then — without hesitation, on a sidewalk filled with shoppers — asked, “Are you having an affair?”

“No,” I laughed.

“Well, you’re not going to tell me that you bought this for your husband,” she said.

“Actually, I did,” I answered, and held the sexy negligee up to my not-so-slinky frame.

“How long have you been married?” she asked incredulously.

When I replied, “Twenty-four years!” she exclaimed, “I want what you’re having!”

On a constant, natural high

Indeed, what I was having was a totally surprising menopause, where the hot flashes were one permanent state of heat, and my immediate concerns revolved around how I was going to get my husband “in the mood” tonight. Not only that, but I had energy to burn. My mood swings were pointing toward the good mood end of the spectrum. In fact, most of the time, I seemed to be on a natural high, ready for fun, frolic and fashion, with sexy nighties near the top of the list.

My husband was totally taken aback with this development, and so was I. Frankly, I’d been dreading this change of life. I had seen depressed colleagues popping “happy pills” or rubbing wild yam cream in a panic up and down their arms. I had heard stories about dryness, loss of libido and dark moods. Some friends were uncontrollably weepy, or angry, or fraught with angst. Yet here I was, on a hormonal high, dancing in the living room to the Pointer Sisters’ “It’s Raining Men.”

“The neighbours will see you,” my husband objected as I threw off yet another layer to shimmy and shake in front of the windows. “Aren’t you embarrassed?” Nope. That’s where the stereo was. I had room to move. Besides, like a teenager, I was living for the moment. My emotions were on a high, and the high-step kicks on the carpet came out of pure exuberance.

“Is the Dancing Queen home?” I heard a neighbour ask at the door as I was twirling to a song. “Oh, it’s Abba night tonight?” she asked when she heard the music. “It’s Abba night every night,” my husband said wearily. Then a pause. “Does she have all her clothes on?” my neighbour asked. “Yes,” he said. “Thankfully. Come on in.”

My husband said, "Enough!"

Finally, my husband had had enough of the wild music, the “10 Tongue Tips that Drive Him Wild” articles staring up at him from magazines piled on the coffee table, and his hormone-induced wife chasing him around the bedroom. “You’ve got to see the doctor,” he insisted. “This is not normal. You’re in your fifties!” I reminded him that most guys would thank their lucky stars to be in his shoes. But he protested, “Sure once in a while, but not 24 hours a day!”

Perhaps he had a point. I went to the bookstore and the library looking for information on my “condition.” But all I found were books written by authors influenced by their own “distressing menopause experiences” (I couldn’t relate), chapter titles like “How Do I Get from Ho-Hum to Hot Sex?” (already ahead on that path) or books talking about menopause as if it were a disease looking for a cure. The Seven Menopausal Dwarfs listed on one current website — Itchy, Bitchy, Sweaty, Bloaty, Sleepy, Forgetful and Psycho — had been replaced in my house by my three amigos: Hot, Happy and Horny. No cure needed. I just needed to know how to deal with them.

So I went to see my doctor, herself a woman of a certain age. She was happy that I was eating a super-healthy diet, and had even lost some weight (maybe all that dancing?). She prescribed a vitamin. But she laughed when I explained my menopausal dilemma. “Enjoy it,” she said. “Write a book about it!” But what about hormonal imbalance or physiological problems? “It’s not that common, but it’s not uncommon for menopause to go either way,” she explained. “I have one woman in my practice who is as large as life, and yet she’s flying high, and the men are coming out of the woodwork.” Me too. Pheromones — or phero-moans, as one friend calls them —seemed to be wafting around me.

Indeed, as I began asking around, I found other kindred souls. One single friend confessed that she had bought The Rabbit, made popular by lovelorn Charlotte on Sex and the City. The vibrator wore out, cracked down the middle and she bought another. She also started shopping at Victoria’s Secret. “I only ever wore black or white underwear,” she confides. “But at age 50, I went out and bought underwear in every colour of the rainbow, with bras to match. I started wearing low-cut, sexy tops to bed.” Five years later, she relates one recent surprise encounter with a male friend in the bread section at the supermarket. “It was hugs and kisses all around, and I tell you it wasn’t only the bread that was rising that day,” she laughs.

Coming down

But menopausal highs can be natural energy highs too. Another friend, now 68, remembers that she too had surplus energy and was on a natural high for four or five years. “I felt as if I could move mountains,” she says. Many of her friends were depressed, and she kept waiting for this awful menopause period to begin. “Every day, I would say to myself, ‘Well, maybe today is the day.’ But it never came. Really, my menopause was the happiest time of my life.” Maybe we were just lucky. Maybe we just had the right attitude. Or maybe it was something we were eating quite by accident in our diet, such as fish oil, ground flax, or soy. Whatever the reason, I am happy to have had this energetic, positive period in my life.

Finally, at age 56, I’ve come back to earth. I’m no longer dancing as much in the living room or lusting after my husband quite so often. My radio dial is typically tuned to earnest documentaries about the plight of the black-footed ferret. But I am grateful for this unexpectedly happy period in my life. Besides…my slinky mauve nightie is still hanging in my closet, on standby, just in case!

More on menopause: 

The menopause gift guide
Menopause primer: Hot news about hot flashes
Hot flash-fighting food

Was your menopause experience a happy horny one? Do you have tips on how to deal with menopause, good or bad? Talk in the forums!

This article originally appeared in the September 2008 issue of More