The Cheerleader and the Fat Kid

Facing 50 means facing the body. My body. That's the thing about hot flashes. It's not the discomfort so much as the sudden interruption, the body shoving its way into the conversation. The hot flashes remind me of my short, ill-fated breastfeeding career: You're standing in the office, talking with a colleague, all intellectual and professional, and suddenly there's that tingle and the hardening and then the warmth of leaking breast milk. You trust the nursing pads packed into your enormous nursing bra and you keep talking, but the center of your attention has shifted--to that demanding, out-of-control body.

I suppose it would be different if my body and I actually got along. But we have a long and hostile relationship. To illustrate: In the course of about a month several years ago a series of medical professionals told me:
1) that I was unfortunate in my saliva. Up until that point I had no idea that some people had lucky spit. But not me, evidently.
2) that my bowel movements were inadequate. This one was a shock. I mean, I was used to feeling inadequate as a wife, as a mom, as a scholar, as a friend. . . but as a pooper? I didn't even know there were standards to be met, let alone that I was failing to meet them.
3) that my vulva skin was abnormally thin. Of course, thin is usually pretty good, but not, it turns out, when it comes to vulvas. One wants a plump vulva.
4) that my breasts were unusually lumpy. Geez. Keith never complained.
and
5) that the way my body reacted to medications was surpassingly strange. The doctor who delivered this edict was mightily miffed, by the way. In my experience, doctors do not find anomalies intriguing; their scientific curiousity is not piqued. Nope. They just get pissed off.

So. I look at my body the way the junior high cheerleader regards the fat kid who rides the same bus. (For once, I get to be the cheerleader.) Mostly I ignore it. Sometimes I snub it. There's the occasional bout of bullying. And I am, like, totally not amused that this fat kid is now sitting in my, like, seat you know? and like, totally talking to me.