funny, isn't it
by jeanne charters

I quit … finally … cold turkey. After 13 years of addiction, I've given them up. For all those years, I religiously popped the little green pill each morning and the little pink pill each night just before bed. Prozac, you think? Valium, perhaps? Vicodin, the pain/pleasure pill of the millennium?

Nope, I was on something even more seductive. I was taking pills guaranteed to keep me glowing and juicy and sexy into my dotage. I was on estrogen and progesterone.

After the news of the study broke, all the reservations of all the docs I've seen over the past decade finally began to sink in. They used to say, "Well, there is some information on an increase in breast cancer with HRT; but, frankly, the benefits to your bones and heart seem to outweigh the hazards." Good enough for me. I had seen my mother, one of the strongest women on the planet, crumble into a nursing home as her bones began to break from osteoporosis. Granted, she had breast cancer as well; but ultimately, that was not what killed her. It was the broken hips and fractured vertebrae that finally rendered her immobile and susceptible to all the hideous maladies of old age.

And, of course, there was my face! I thought I looked pretty good for my age and totally credited hormones for any youthful glow that I saw in the mirror (ignoring the fact that that glow might be the result of a good night's sleep, my daily yoga, or the fact that I am, finally, in the arms of a happy marriage.)

Also, my sex life is important to me, and I believed that HRT would preserve that infinitely. That was dumb. No matter how many pills I take, I'm never going to have the oomph and interest in sex that was there in my 30's and 40's. That's OK. Once in a while, the old girl can still rumble the timbers should the mood move her.

Anyway, 3 weeks ago, I quit. My best friend, Nancy, quit the next day. Both of us are waiting for the hot flashes, the mood swings and the dried up orifices that supposedly accompany this decision. So far, except for the fact that I have a headache once in a while, neither of us feels a thing!

Oh, I don't sleep well and neither does Nancy. But, so what? Neither of us ever slept well even when were dosing regularly on hormones. It is my opinion that any woman over 50 years of age who claims they "sleep like a baby" is either delusional or seriously addicted to some sleep-inducing drug.

Nancy and I have an agreement. If either of us notices that our bosoms have dropped suddenly and precipitously or that our jowls are now approaching our clavicles, we will tell the other. I am looking closely at her each time we see each other. So far, I see no change that cannot be corrected with a glass of wine.

Anyway, I will keep you posted on things as they develop in my new hormone-less world. I feel I owe it to you. I am part of the guinea pig generation, and I accept the responsibility of passing on information to you sisters not yet in the throes of the dreaded "change".

Funny, isn't it? Maybe menopause doesn't mean putting "men on pause" at all. Maybe it was all just a marketing ploy for the pharmaceutical industry. Now, that would really tick me off!

Jeanne Charters moved to the Asheville area from upstate New York last September. A former V.P. of Marketing for Viacom Television, she started a successful broadcast agency in 1990 and continues serving her clients in areas of writing, production and planning. In her most recent incarnation, she plans to become a syndicated columnist.