I always imagined menopause would be about hot flashes, mood swings, and a sudden obsession with herbal teas. No one warned me about my vagina turning into the Sahara Desert, with recurring UTIs popping up like uninvited guests at a party.
For years, intimacy with my husband was something I cherished. Now? Now, it’s a high-risk adventure that requires strategic planning, hydration schedules, and prayers to the UTI gods. I’ve tried everything—cranberry juice, probiotics, antibiotics, essential oils, yoga, standing on one leg while chanting in Sanskrit (okay, maybe not that last one, but I was close). But despite all efforts, the only foolproof method to avoid a UTI has been abstinence.
And let me tell you, abstinence is highly overrated. I find myself thinking about monks, priests, nuns, and single or widowed people—how do they do it? Do they make peace with celibacy, or do they secretly have a stash of romance novels under their pillows? I feel like I’ve unwillingly joined their club, except I didn’t take a vow—my bladder did.
But hey, that’s life. Menopause is a bizarre, slightly cruel prank nature plays on us, but I refuse to let it win. Something will work—I’m sure of it! Until then, I shall embrace my newfound wisdom, laugh at the absurdity of it all, and maybe, just maybe, start looking into monastic retreats… purely for research, of course...
19/02/2025
12.30 am
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