Right now, the ads in my Instagram feed are either for needle work kits or curing plantar fasciatus. Occasionally the algorithm throws in an ad for somatic yoga for women over fifty because the internet thinks I’m eighty. I’m cool with that. I’ve stopped getting the ads for magic elixirs that cure perimenopause, though that may change after today’s post. I stopped taking the progesterone/DHEA stuff that I had ordered from the internet about a month and a half ago. It was time to renew my three-month supply and I put a big pause on that order for some reasons. The biggest reason was because of cost and I could not get my insurance to cover any of it. So I figured I would pause treatment, make notes on how I was feeling, and then take all of this to my doctor.

And I did that today.

I am going to start by saying that I really like my gynecologist. She is the same age as I am and doesn’t think I’m crazy. She walked into the room with a smile and a “Welcome to Perimenopause!” because the nurse had already given her a briefing on my erratic periods and my weight gain. To be fair, I did step onto the scale with my keys and wallet in my pockets, plus my Nikes. I’d like to think that added about five pounds to the number, but really I have no idea. The only time I step on a scale is at the doctors office because if I start doing this at home, I start obsessing and stressing out about numbers which leads me down a very unhealthy rabbit hole. My doctor only barely mentioned the weight and I said that I think I’ve reached a place where I’m okay with it and this is just my body. She nodded her head in agreement and said “Yes! I completely agree with you!” Then she told me that her favorite lubricant is olive oil and we swapped friendship bracelets. We didn’t really swap friendship bracelets, but olive oil is her favorite lube choice second to coconut oil.

I explained to my doctor how I felt taking the online stuff and how I was feeling now that I’m not, which isn’t great. I’m back to not sleeping for more than two hours at a time and my body has gone back to barrel shaped. My right foot hurts all the dang time, but I’m still doing all of the things. 10,000 or more steps a day. Yoga. I’ve added weights to my yoga practice. Standing all day at my desk. I’ve swapped out my tofu scramble with plain greek yogurt to get more protein. I told her that I basically have one of two stages: rage or sobbing. I’m either going to punch someone in the throat or melt into tears. Then she said “I’m here to support you and let’s talk about ways to do that.” So of course, I burst into tears. We talked about options in relation to the current state of my ovaries, which are still doing something even if they’re only spitting out low quality eggs. Then she prescribed a very low dose birth control pill with instructions to give this a good three month try. The idea is that this will even out and regulate things.

We’ll see.

It is turning out that three truly is the magic number. I was on the other stuff for three months. Now I am to give the new stuff a three month chance. At least this treatment is fully covered by my insurance and familiar. I took a birth control pill every day for twenty five year. I am excellent at remembering to take this pill. I have hopes that this will work but not high hopes. Just like my weight, I think I’ve finally started to come to terms with this is just how my body is right now. I make sure to not walk around carrying knives and always have a package of Kleenex in my pocket, which is probably just a good habit for any stage of life. Sort of like Hitchhiker’s Guide To the Galaxy and always carrying a towel. Except a woman would most likely never hitchhike because bears don’t drive cars or if they do, don’t pick up hitchhikers.

This is more of The Transportationally Responsible’s Guide to Perimenopause.