How I know I’m About to Turn 45!

Turning 45 as a menopausal mom with teenage boys isn’t a birthday. It’s a systems stress test.

My body has decided it’s running on a software update no one asked for. Random overheating. Sleep optional.

Emotions are loading without warning. Meanwhile, my house smells like gym socks, protein powder, and the faint hum of teenage confidence. I’m hormonally fragile, outnumbered, and raising two humans who believe “What’s for dinner?” is a personality.

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At 45, I wake up sweaty, tired, and already annoyed at someone who hasn’t spoken yet. I’m too old to care what people think, too young to understand why my knees make that noise, and just hormonal enough to cry because Costco moved the peanut butter.

This isn’t midlife. This is survival mode with snacks. And with that said, this is how I know that I'm about to turn 45!

1. A sneeze now requires a risk assessment.
   I clench like I’m defusing a bomb and whisper, “Not today, pee Satan.”
   
   
   
2. My knees sound like bubble wrap at a rage room.
   Standing up in public announces my age before I do.
   
   
   
3. I need silence the way I once needed attention when I was 16.
   If the TV, a teenager, and a group chat are talking at once, I will simply shut down just like a Roomba stuck under a chair.
   
   
   
4. I have a drawer full of bras I hate, but can’t throw out.
   Some are supportive. Some are aggressive. One is basically a medieval torture device. All of them have hurt me.
   
   
   
5. Sex requires warm-up stretches and post-care.
   Someone grab the heating pad and cancel tomorrow.
   
   
   
   
6. My bladder has a personal vendetta against me.
   I pee before leaving the house. Then again, “just in case.” Then again, because I thought about peeing.
   
   
   
7. I’ve said “I’m not mad, I’m just tired” while being very mad.
   The rage is real. The exhaustion is louder.
   
   
   
   
8. My skincare routine is longer than my resume.
   Serums. Oils. Creams. Hope. Delusion. If this doesn’t work, I’m just leaning into witch vibes.
   
   
   
   
9. I’ve had sex where my body made noise I didn’t authorize.
   That was a hip. That was not enthusiasm.
   
   
   

9.5. I own lingerie strictly for optimism.
It’s not for wearing. It’s for believing.

10. I fall asleep during shows I begged to watch.
    I’ll wake up, see explosions, and say, “Wow, this got intense,” like I wasn’t unconscious for 47 minutes.