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Health & Wellness

My Pussy Hurts (not a Euphemism) – The Menopause Edit

This is your indication that it’s Friday. You’re welcome.

In a previous post a while back, I talk about how it’s cool to be post-hormone age. How we can kick back and go bra-less, and let the wisdom and serenity wash over us. It’s all true, but wait.

What I didn’t quite grasp, was that with all that wispy wisdom and grown up-‘edness comes the fact that my vagina would push everything out of the way to be top billing on the daily list of things to ‘deal with’. It’s become an attention grabbing diva. One of those friends that demands all the attention by saying ‘Does this color suit me?’ or ‘I’m not sure about short sleeves today.’ In reality you really want to tell that friend, ‘It’s not all about you, bitchface.’

I don’t give my vag a name. In much the same way I don’t give any other body part a name. It’s not called ‘fru-fru’ or ‘daisy’. In fact, up to this point in my life it’s never been called anything largely due to the fact that it’s never needed that much attention. I have to conclude, therefore, that in my autumn years the vag has decided to become top billing, after all those years of going un-noticed and healthy. This bitch is now making up for lost time. Forthwith, I shall be applying various silly names to my vag for cheap laughs.

No one prepares you, post-menopause, to have to let go of the DECADES where you showered, put knickers on and just got on with your day. I can’t even remember the last time, pre-menopause, that I had to give any thought to the muff. Unless I wanted to, ~wink.

These days, the fur burger has turned into a whiny, anxious, hurty little bitch who wants all the attention.

Here’s a rough outline of what you can expect, you nubile, care-free, moist little witches:

Water. Should be warm. You can no longer lower yourself into a bath and then not move for five minutes because it’s three degrees under the heat of the sun. You can now wipe that smug look off your face as you think about how high your pain threshold is. Or how wobbly your legs are when you get out because you’re blood has filled your muscles to broiling point. Nope. It’s two degrees above cold now because the honey pot no longer has any kind of protective layer.

Soap. I’ve never used ANY product on my vaj-ay-jay. These days, if I so much as blink in the direction of Radox or anything that makes bubbles, the floofy makes sure I’m sitting on razor-blades for a month.

Lacy Knickers. You know those decades where you purchased the sexiest lacy columbian cheekies from Victoria Secret? The ones you took the price tag off in the shop because you wanted to forget how much you actually spent on them? Well, the peach don’t want those no more, lady. The Peach sees lacy cheekies as 200-grit sandpaper that makes you walk like John Wayne’s after his first horse ride.

ANY knickers. On some days, expect the muffin to strenuously object to any kind of cloth touching it. Okay, you think, go commando, you think. Yeah, but ya still gotta wear clothes. Ya still got to sit down. CONTACT! cupcake detects contact and your world will turn upside down while you struggle to unfurl the rusty razorwire from your crack. I never went commando. Now making the choice is like playing Russian Roulette with six bullets.

So, you kinda get it. With the hormones gone we have to work on replacing our natural moisture and Ph., without risking jumping around like a naked person who just accidentally sat in a bush of nettles.

Here’s the relief I’ve tried so far (and just note, I HATE all of these):

The Naked Starfish.

After your evening bath or shower, lie on the bed and imagine whatshisface from Fifty Shades has tied each limb to each corner. Stay that way until morning.

Effectiveness to the bean: 8/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 1/10 (unless you share a home with whatshisface.

Powder.

A last resort (I don’t know why I’m putting this second) is to embrace the dryness. Give in to the beef curtains‘ insistence on not having any moisture whatsoever. It’s not really recommended but hey, in desperation I tried it. It’s okay but doesn’t feel natural at all to have a muffin as dry as the sahara in July.

Effectiveness to the muffin: 6/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 3/10

E45 or other Emolient.

~sigh. Coochie doesn’t mind this, but by Gods its errr, messy. It still feels unnatural and kinda gross.

Effectiveness to the coochie: 6/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 4/10

Vaseline, Petroleum Jelly:

I twitch at the thought that slathering the Bajingo with anything containing the word ‘petroleum’ – but needs must. I want to wash it off immediately, but it does give some relief. Used at night, it does help you sleep without crying. But, I don’t like feeling like I’m laying in a lump of cold frying fat.

Effectiveness to the bajingo: 7/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 2/10

Feminine Moisture Products.

I kind of like these best, but the Doctor told me I shouldn’t use them (of course she did). The formulation feels natural but doesn’t last. I think these were invented for sex or masturbation; those that are still having sex post-menopause, to help alleviate the feeling of having sex with a rusty baseball bat. I wish the application lasted longer.

Effectiveness to the flower: 9/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 7/10

Vagisil/Itch Relief.

Hey, I did mention that Vaginal Dryness causes irritation right? And did I mention that you can’t scratch it? That’s right, ladies. You can no longer use the phrase ‘scratching an itch’ as a euphemism for masturbation or orgasm. You can’t now say to your partner ‘Hey baby, come scratch my itch’ because YOU are scratching it, and not because you feel sexy either. Honestly, when you’re reaching for disposable cutlery or considering a wire brush for your nookie, call the Doctor. Research says first that the itch/scratch cycle MUST be broken or further more serious complications will arrive. I hate these kinds of unnatural applications, but again, needs must.

Effectiveness to the nookie: 7/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 7/10

Sudacrem/Antiseptic.

You realise that the fuzzbox and me are reliving this experiment as I type, right? Has a similar effect to No.6, but only if the snapper is in a decent mood that day. On some days as soon as it’s applied you’re doing this weird caveman walk to the bathroom to reach for your warm washcloth. Honestly, I’m spending entire hours some days just making froo-froo comfortable.

Effectiveness to the snapper: 5/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 5/10

Restoring Ph.

This is kind of an ongoing experiment. I’m guessing that with the whole dryness comes a shift in Ph that I have to correct. Then maybe things can thrive, and some semblance of natural moisture can return to my flowerpot. Eating natural yoghurt, taking probiotics, using flax-seed (high in estrogen) are all contenders. I’m woefully inconsistent with these, so have no solid results to report.

Effectiveness to the flowerpot: -/10 Effectiveness for humaning: -/10

Colloidal Oatmeal.

I’ve bought two colloidal oatmeal products, one for the bath and one lotion. I’m encouraged by both. It sounded weird to me, bathing in porridge even a little gross perhaps, but I think it’s definitely having an effect. I really have to get over my reluctance to apply anything to my penis fly trap. The only thing that puts me off here is the bloody cost. Six sachets of colloidal oatmeal on Amazon is almost £13.00. Says she, who used to buy £75 bath products. Oh how the mighty have fallen. The lotion is really nice and closest to the natural feeling I’m looking for. I must be more consistent with this, the dew flaps and I have a good feeling about this combo.

Effectiveness to the dew flaps: 5/10 Effectiveness for humaning: 5/10

Hormone Replacement.

In desperation I caved and did my own research before contacting my Doc. It was lock-down, so we had a phone appointment which also meant no knee-spreading or prodding at my puff pillow from under a powder-blue nylon blanket. I explained all my woes, and everything I had tried or was trying.

Madonna isn’t stretching. Or doing yoga. Or showing off.

After talking about that, we talked about the available solutions. these were either a cream (ugh) or a pessary (think tampon) and I opted for the latter. One applicator every night for thirty days and them twice a week. I’m about half way through and a couple of nights I forgot. The applicator isn’t rosebud-friendly, so it’s not something I look forward to. It’s too early to notice any results yet, unfortunately. But I am sacrificing to Gaia.

Effectiveness to the rosebud: -/10 Effectiveness for humaning: -/10

Honorable Mentions

Ice Packs/Cold Floors

Honestly, this doesn’t work in public. Even if the kitty demands it suddenly while you’re in line for coffee, dropping down into a split never goes down well with an audience.

Gerard Butler with an Ice-Cube Between his Teeth

Not generally available as an over the counter solution. And probably way beyond the budget of an average human. But ya know, if push comes to shove, I could get a loan, or sell my house.

Cooch Removal Surgery

I think you’d probably have to travel to Azbeckistan for this, and with the Covid lockdown, you’re probably not going to get a flight for a while. Cursing silently to yourself that you want your previously faithful cock-sock to dry up and drop off forever is infinitely less expensive. So, ya know, do that instead.

Please share this post with anyone you think might have a sad lady-flower.

Sammy x

Picture of Samantha Dee

Samantha is a well-liked Life Coach, specializing in self-esteem and body image with qualifications in Mindfulness, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and Skilled Helping. She speaks on several panels around the internet in this regard.

Samantha Dee is the Author of ‘My Big Fat…Fat’ and ‘The Thirty Day Wellness Journal’. Her next book, ‘My Big Fat…Kitchen’ is due out soon.

Chat with Sam here.

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