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August 18 -August 25,2002 |
Culture Vulture
Don't fool with Mother Nature
By Donna Lypchuk
Originally Published: 2002-08-04
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Shopping for youth
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When I first read that scientists had discovered a way to reverse menopause, the reactionary part of me thought, "Oh, great. Here's another excuse to keep women barefoot, pregnant and slaves to their biology for the rest of their lives!"
Then a slightly less reactionary part of me (but not much less) thought, "Oh, great. This could mean another 20 years of getting your period." What woman would choose to experience another two decades of cramps, PMS, ruined sheets and buying tampons, pads and Pamprin when you could have that fresh and panty-liner-free feeling full-time? Just think: post-menopause, you can go hang-gliding and do all those fun things girls do without worrying about "feeling secure."
By the way, why is the government still charging women tax on feminine hygiene products? Do they not see that feminine protection is an absolute necessity, like food? Why are they taxing our biology? I guess the government knows that in a pinch, a woman could always filch a couple of safety pins and a roll of toilet paper and fabricate herself a little homemade, tax-free nappy. Or if she completely wanted to avoid paying taxes, she could just stay at home and pretend her futon was a giant tax-free sanitary pad. You see these futons all the time, being dragged out of houses when women move from place to place, the movers looking discreetly away while the woman explains, "Oh, those stains. Those are from when I cut my finger accidentally... with a chainsaw."
Maybe in a couple of years I'll feel differently. Maybe in a decade or two, when I first start experiencing those hot flashes and what society perceives as the last vestiges of my femininity sadly slipping away, I'll be on my knees, begging the doctor, "Gimme one of those pills! My God, make me feel like a real woman again! My family is treating me like I'm just Buddy Ebsen with a wig!" Or I'll be on my knees, penitent, sobbing, "Oh God, dear doctor, I regret all those years I spent working on my career and ignoring the tick-tick-ticking of my biological clock and now I really, really want to have a child. I don't want to put this stinking yam cream under my arms any more. Save me. I really, really want to have a baby of my own to cuddle."
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