Hot Flashes & Cold Brew

I knew something was shifting when the thought of sneezing made me panic.

It happened gradually at first — a little cross of the legs here, a subtle clench there. Nothing alarming. Just a small, silent negotiation between me and my bladder every time someone made me laugh too hard or a particularly aggressive sneeze caught me off guard.

I started calling it Sneeze Roulette. You spin the wheel, you take your chances, and you pray you’re near a bathroom! Sound familiar?

I told myself it was just because I had three kids. Perfectly explainable. Nothing to see here.

And then I found the chin hair.

Not a soft, barely-there little fuzz. A full, committed, load-bearing chin hair that had apparently been living its best life while I wasn’t paying attention.

I plucked it. It came back. I plucked it again. It came back faster, thicker, and seemingly more confident than before. That was the moment I had to have an honest conversation with myself.

My body was changing. And it had a lot to say.

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The Announcements Nobody Prepares You For

If you are a woman in your 40s, you already know that the changes come in waves — some hilarious, some humbling, and some that make you stand at the top of the stairs going when did my knees start making that sound?!

Let me walk you through the greatest hits.

The bladder situation is real. Three kids will do things to your pelvic floor that no prenatal class adequately warned you about. Sneezing, laughing, jumping, a particularly enthusiastic cough — all of these are now events that require preparation.

You develop a system. You cross your legs. You clench. You do a quick bathroom threat assessment before committing to anything funny. It becomes second nature. You barely think about it anymore. Mostly.

Then there’s the vision. Driving at night has become an adventure I did not sign up for. The headlights from oncoming cars hit differently now — like staring directly into the sun at 9pm on a Tuesday. I squint. I lean forward. I silently question every life choice that put me on this road after dark.

Chocolate gives me a headache now. CHOCOLATE. One of the last great simple pleasures of this life and my body has decided we are no longer on speaking terms with it. I’m still grieving.

The joints have developed a whole personality. My knees announce themselves on the stairs every morning like they’re entering a room. My elbow — just one, randomly, for no medical reason anyone can explain — decided one day that it was going to hurt now. Just because. No injury, no event, no explanation. Just a Tuesday elbow that aches like it has been through something.

Brain fog is a thing they don’t warn you about enough. I have walked into rooms with complete conviction and stood there like a lost tourist with no recollection of why I came. I have forgotten words — common, everyday words — mid sentence, in front of people. I have sent texts to the wrong person, left my coffee on top of the car, and googled things I already knew because I simply could not locate them in my own brain.

And then — the bra. If it comes off, I am staying home. That’s it. That’s the whole rule. The bra is not just an undergarment anymore. It is a social contract. And once that contract is dissolved for the evening, I am no longer available to the outside world.

Muscle and bone loss quietly show up too — less dramatic than the chin hair but worth paying attention to. Our risk for osteoporosis increases after 40 and our muscles don’t bounce back the way they used to. The body asks us to work a little harder to maintain what we used to take for granted.

And perhaps the most unexpected development of all — I got genuinely, deeply excited about a new vacuum cleaner recently. Like, told people about it. Enthusiastically. And felt zero shame.

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Here’s What I Want You To Know

These changes can feel like little betrayals at first. Like your body is doing things without your permission and laughing about it. And honestly — sometimes it is.

You just have to laugh back.

Don’t fight it. Embrace it. Yes, it’s a nuisance. Yes, the chin hair is relentless, and the bladder is untrustworthy, and the elbow makes absolutely no sense.

But laugh at these moments, girl — because growing older is a gift. Not everyone gets the chance to do it.

So, pluck those damn chin hairs. Cross your legs before you sneeze. Turtle your way to the bathroom if you have to. Get irrationally excited about a good vacuum.

And let’s laugh at all of it together. 🧡. Because we earned every single bit of this. 😂☕