To Flash or To Flush - That Was The Question

A sweary rant from one really HOT lady. I’m not now FYI. Cos HRT. But.

Sweats. A History. Actually, a Her-story.

Begins:

Ahem. At the height of my internal volcanic disruptions, every time I flushed (or flashed some prefer) I wanted to tweet it. But you know, 6 times in two hours would lose me followers. And I’d just reached 666.

I tried reading some of the truly helpful information on how to deal with these random and ridiculous spikes in body temperature when mine really started to come on with a vengeance, with the added icing of nausea.

Articles cheerily titled, “The Mystery of Women’s Thermal Chaos.” Whoopee. I was a character in a sci-fi novel. I just didn’t know it. One menopausal-advice-writer-person recommended, ‘Undress! Open a window!’

Undress! Good one! Classic! I could see the future for us middle-aged, involuntary sauna seekers. We’d have our own back corner in the café. It’d be opposite the almond-friand spreading, fluffy slurping midget corner. Only we’d be in the nuds, under a low ceiling fan, sitting at a circular table (nonchalantly shelving our pale tits) sipping our free ice cold soy milk with goji sprinkles. Grey Ladies rule. Fist pump, girls. We’d be sat there, staring straight ahead, hoping like hell our left-to-grow-out (because dye chemicals cause heat and au naturale is so so 2020) silver-streaked hair was making us invisible. We’d be sucking our cold drinks through bamboo straws because milk on your moustache just isn’t that sexy. While nibbling flax seed, apricot, soy powder and cacao nib slice. Sugar-free. Joy-free. Raw! But sweetened with fresh organic dates. Those ugly, expensive little fuckers.

Yerp, we’d be sat in the naughty corner, incorporating some self-help-hot-flush-reducing measures. Little clothing. A plant oestrogen rich morning tea. When what we really wanted was a full dairy cappuccino, with a jumbo mixed berry and white chocolate muffin, heated and served with a generous pat of salty butter. As well as a new pale pink cashmere polo neck jumper and some comfy elastic waist slacks. Black. Plus a bloody good laugh.

Yet, we’d be sat there at that circular table, sucking our milk and skiting about who woke up the most last night. Pick me! Yes me! Oooh, at least ten times! It was magic. It was …

 It’s all right I’m Jumping-Jane-Flash, I’m a gas gas gas.

“Are you going through menopause? No, I'm just on fire." Said famous kiwi novelist, Emily Perkins. “Waves burning arm tantalisingly close to your rayon coat.”

Me too. I was a woman on fire alright. Mostly at night, in bed, while the H snored and farted happily beside me, I followed a random pattern in the dark …

I threw back the covers, panting and welcoming the cool night air. I dabbed the damp creep, circumnavigating my cleavage with my silk nightie. I panted. Even though I did not realise I was panting. I looked out the window. Venus winked at me. I winked back. I saw a shooting star! Then another. Then snap. I was shivering. I pulled the duvet swiftly back around my ears and set to restabilising my body temp. I took a slurp of water from the glass on my nightstand that I share with my cat. Parched. I worried about how much vital moisture I’d lost, alone in the dark over the last four years. My insides a desert. A fossilised forest. A natural history museum exhibit. 

I thought of lovely nurse, Sharon. ‘You can always go on HRT,’ she’d advised, months earlier. While listening to me whinge about my Olympic-level hot flashes, not the cervical smear she was undertaking at the time.

A new and very hot day dawned. In the middle of winter. I was sat at my desk. Oh great heavens, here it comes. I’ll type through it. Present tense. First-hand research. Go!

I’m having one now. I’m flushing. Bless. Joy. It’s a big one. (Flings open door.) I could plug myself into the grid. Reduce my heating bill. I could recharge every tight arse hippy in the country’s 12-volt battery pack. God almighty, right now I’m so radioactive I could light up the sky tower. Even power the lift. 27 floors. My pits are dripping. So are my underboobs and that crease under my bum. I’m hot alright. I am so sexy to myself I could dance like there’s nobody watching. Not. (Heat wanes. Nausea lifts.) I feel like stepping out of this skin and leaving it somewhere. Slithering away. A hissing snake. Another person can have a turn. In my nuclear reactor suit. I’m done.

It was 10.23am and I reckon I’d had 23 of the little bastards since I woke at 5.47am. Some spiked by hot drinks. One by what my 100-year-old gran gigglingly refers to as sport. That was attractive!!!!!!!!

The results of research circulated around 2001 warned of the harmful side effects of Hormone Replacement Therapy, i.e. the increased risk of breast cancer and heart disease. Governing bodies recommended medical professionals halt prescribing HRT immediately. The number of women taking HRT fell by 66%. The UK's Women's Health Concern (the patient arm of the British Menopause Society) concludes that the research groups in the US in the 1990s were women in their mid-sixties, often overweight. Therefore those women for which HRT was considered suitable - fit women around 45 – 55 were not represented. “ … almost  a generation of women was denied the opportunity of improved quality of life during their menopausal years.”

The current buzz is that HRT does not increase the risk of breast cancer and heart disease, and can reduce your risk of osteoporosis when prescribed correctly. Moreover, the many benefits of HRT (no. 1 for me!) alleviates hot flushes & insomnia, far outweigh the possible side effects.

  

I know the early ‘facts’ still linger. I’ve had more than one girlfriend repeat them to me. I've thought them myself. That's probably partly why I panted in silence for so long. I'm not a medical professional. And I know general medicine is not every women's cup-of-jo. But if you’re hot and bothered about it, find a GP well-versed on the subject of women’s health to discuss your options.

I started HRT six months ago. My hot flushes stopped within three days. Three days! I do not lie. Not to mention all the other bonuses. The HRT Diaries … coming soon … or sometime in the cool future.  

My Mum Was a Slave To Elizabeth Arden

Not my mum. Farrah Fawcett

My mum was a slave to Elizabeth Arden. I grew up on the smell of Eight Hour Cream and its multitude of cosmetic services and cure-alls. During my corporate life, I spent a fortune on their hard-sell, age-freezing promises. I slathered their expensive unguents, most often on not really perfectly clean, nor seldom exfoliated skin, to no avail. Over my thirties, I grew crows feet and laugh lines and tram tracks (two vertical lines between my eyes) and brown spots just as the New Zealand sun and my genetic make-up planned. Then I gave up on EA and their marketing hype. And moved on.

However, an approaching middle-middle, middlest of middle-age birthdays 55 (and a gift voucher) drew me in the Elizabeth Arden counter at H & J’s department store, on a cool yet sunny Wednesday morning this week. Ten minutes later out I marched with EA’s ‘Ceramide Premiere Intense Moisture and Renewal Overnight Regeneration Cream’. All 50 mls of it, for the price of a one way Jet Star seat-only ticket from Queenstown to Sydney. Along with a pottle of EA Ceramide capsules that I chivvied out of the keen-but-I-don’t-work-on-this-counter-Jo-will-be-in-soon sales assistant. All the while, my entire neck and the backs of my hands glistened with the Prevage serum I'd greedily purged from the testers. As you do.

I couldn’t wait for night to fall. When I would cleanse, exfoliate, tone and massage, in upward motions, my new wonder pharmaceutical in cream form onto my face and neck. Women-friends please be reminded here to anoint the back of your neck as you do the front! I’ve omitted this small action my whole life. Up until I sat in talk after talk at a recent writer’s conference and studied the backs of female necks realising, bother it, so had everyone else.

That night I slept as I usually do. Waking at intervals. Not because of night sweats. Because. No. I don’t get them any more thanks to HRT. (That’s another story.) I wake because of partner disturbance eg. SNORING. Or my own mind mulling something over and over and not shutting itself up. In the morning, I caressed my checks in the dim dawn light. They felt smooth. Hydrated. As promised. But was I regenerated?

Later that morning, I caught my reflection in my Mac desktop on the black Spotify screen. I was listening to This is Billie Eilish. God, I love her. Anyways. Fuck me. I had regenerated. Oh yes I had revivified alright. I had spawned overnight some added extras. Hells Bells. It appeared I had gained creases. Two extra lines, aka wrinkles ran beside my deep nasio labial folds, like double pleats on the wool skirt I made in Manual back in 1979. Waaaaaaaaaa. I screamed. They heard me in Invercargill. And baaaaaed back. I'm not making this up.

But. No. Really. What’s. One. To. Do. Aside from eat Bluff oysters, tis the season, and hold one’s chin back with thumb and forefinger in thoughtful writer's pose for the rest of one’s life. While telling EA very firmly, this test-group-of-one is through.

All this nonsense and foolish splashing of gifted-cash on impossible hopes. Along with ageing disgracefully. Drink up. And attending a Barre Warrior class thinking I’d actually be able to walk the next day. Lead me to want to pen one of those Jane’s Must Have Cosmetics Hacks. So I did. Some of these potions were advised to moi in the first place. They, therefore, have cred.

1. For the most fun in a tube. And recommended by Lorde’s mum, poet Sonja Yelich @sonjayelich1, as the best in the business this:

Sexy Mother Pucker. Cautions: this lipgloss will almost immediately plump, buzz, tingle and zing.

And it does. Soap & Glory’s bestselling extreme plumping lipgloss is available from Kmart. I bought mine in the US about five years ago and it’s still buzzing and plumping. I’m not sure if you can get it in NZ. But it’s worth a try. 

2.benefit BAD gal Bang! Mascara Recommended by gorgeous daughters, Lily 20 and Eloise 18.

BBG Bang! promises: Bigger, Badder volumizing. And the bestest thing about this mascara is that it does both the above without ugly clumps. And I’ve been on the lookout for decades. (Around $NZD26.00)

3.LiLash Purified Eyelash Serum. Recommended by the lovely ladies at Spring Spa, Queenstown.

I’ve been doing a bit of lash farming lately. I’ve done this before with disastrous results. But this time I used LiLash . And well look, mate, I’m just your average doe-eyed matron without the red bits. Batter-mine! Babes. (Around $NZD100 but I use a single stroke above the top lashline every 2nd night. At this rate, one tube will last me a year.) 

4. Sukin’s Body Contouring Crème Recommended by yours truly.

Finally, a body lotion that does the trick and more for around $17. I live in zero humidity and this rich cream is good for all over ze body. It absorbs like a dream. I doubt it will cure my bat wings, but hydration is key in these parts as winter approaches. Slap this on and those elbows and knees will squeal.

And for the record once I finish my pot of gold Ceramide Premiere, I’ll be going back to my old fave Antipodes, Avocado Pear Nourishing Night Cream. It smells divine, hydrates a treat and won’t break the piggy bank. (Around $NZD55, but if you wait for the 'Buy 2 products, get the 3rd free' and have a Living Rewards card. Winning!)

Happy International Women's Day y'all!
Jane xx

In Conversation with Aussie Children's Author, Jacqueline Harvey

Jacqueline Harvey

Bestselling Aussie children’s author, Jacqueline Harvey and I first met virtually, via the Twittermachine. I followed her, she followed me back. I didn’t think much more of it. Except thanks! I love it when big named authors follow-back strangers. It’s polite. Not snobby. It shows a rainbow appreciation of readers and fans, whatever, whomever or wherever in the world they may be. These followings I’ve discovered often start the most unlikely of conversations. And unbeknownst to me, aside from both being children’s authors, Jacqueline and I had one other thing in common.

Months later, in May 2018 I attended a packed Kensy and Max, ‘Spies, Lies & Mysteries’ event at the Sydney Writers Festival. Due to my limited time and too many amazing speakers overlapping, I snuck out ten minutes prior to the end of her talk. Whoops! To my chagrin, I was sprung. Jacqueline had been animatedly describing the necessary attributes of a successful spy - eyes in the back of your head, a photographic memory, and a keen eye for detail - to her captive young audience. Darn those black cat-eyes sunglasses I had on top of my head (and on my Twitter avatar). 

Jane clearly needs spy school

Or really. Thanks! 

Jacqueline DM’d me later and we discussed our mutual (her part-time)  home - Queenstown. Jacqueline and her husband are now putting the final touches on the holiday house they’ve built under the colossal rocky veil of the Remarkables mountains, at Jack’s Point. ‘The plan is to spend two to three months of the year, twice a year in Queenstown and use if for writing time,’ says Jacqueline.

The author of 38 books, Jacqueline has a formidable writing output. Her new Kensy & Max spy series for 8+, ‘Breaking News’, published by Penguin Random House Australia was released March 2018. The second book ‘Disappearing Act’ hit the bookstores September 2018. And the third ‘Undercover’ will be released March 5, 2019. Next week!

 

Last year, when I interviewed Jacqueline for The Sapling via Messenger, she agreed to answer my Quick Fire Questions list. My only instructions were, You can choose one, both, or add or alter anything.

Book / movie                                      - Depends which book or which film, mostly book

Green Tea / flat white                      - Flat white

Chocolate / cheese                            - Both!

Champagne /red wine                     - Both!

Spots / stripes                                    - Stripes

Lap top/ notebook                            - Laptop. Actually. Notebooks.

(At this point , Jacqueline pulled out several handwritten notebooks. They looked almost completely full. She added, ‘This is the one I have in my hand bag.’

I asked, ‘Are you in café’s writing down people’s conversations?!’

Jacqueline hesitated, then responded. ‘Sometimes!’)

Left handed / right handed             - Right-handed

Flowers / chocolate                           - Flowers

Morning person / night owl             - Morning person

Cat / dog                                                 - Cat  

Bally Puss, Jacqueline's cat

Pizza, in/roast duck, out                            - We do a fair bit of eating in and eating out

Sneakers / heels                                           - Used to be heels, but now it’s sneakers

Briefcase / handbag                                    - Handbag

Ferrari / Maserati                                        - Ferrari

Lipstick / Mascara                                       - Mascara

Cook / Wash up                                            - Both ...  No cook!

Optimist / pessimist                                   - Optimist

Gym / great outdoors                                  - Great outdoors

And I have first-hand proof that Jaqueline enjoys the great outdoors. I suggested a walk and lunch when she was staying in Queenstown over summer. I suggested the Bush Creek walk in Arrowtown. Otago had been enjoying a hot spell, around 26 degrees Celcius daily with zero humidity. The walk is mostly in the shade, I said. It meanders along through leafy bush, beside a cool creek, then gently climbs up into beech forest. There are a few creek-crossings, I added. You may get your feet wet. The only animals about will be native birds on-the-wing.

Yet what I’d overlooked was that the track is actually very steep in places (it’s also a mountain bike track) and I’d been walking the hills all summer. Not writing first drafts and doing final edits over three series. But Jacqueline did not falter, as we marched onwards and upwards chatting non-stop about the children’s book industry.

We crossed Bush creek at least six times, giving in to wet feet at its widest part, the old water supply intake for the town built in 1881. I saw first hand, the unfailing energy, wit and determination that allows Jacqueline Harvey to create and promote five new books over her three series: Clementine Rose, Alice Miranda and Kensy and Max each year.

Then I shouted her lunch!

‘Kensy & Max – Undercover’ will be available in New Zealand, from 5th March 2019. RRP $20.99