Sisterhood of the Traveling Rants


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Growing up with only a brother surely deprived me from experiencing the joys of girl power. You know – – the female closeness that arises when a group of women get together to support, commiserate, elevate, celebrate and then… scratch each other’s eyes out. Okay, so my idea to form a ladies group wasn’t supposed to end up like that, but when you have five women dealing with every symptom in the (mid-life) book, can it really go as smooth as silk? (Silk doesn’t breathe well during a hot flash) Our first order of bonding was to pick a name for our club. That went really nicely. Let’s listen in, shall we?

“We’re calling ourselves the Sisterhood of the Traveling Fans,” said Sweaty Sue, “and instead of passing a pair of pants, we can trade back and forth a magical cooling device that makes our night sweats disappear.” She turned to Huffing Harriet, (who recently made public her struggle with weight gain and exercise) to get a response. “I vote leaving it Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” She said tentatively, “You know, because we get breathless and kinda start to pant when we walk up the stairs?” Testosterone Tiffany interrupted right on cue. “Speak for yourself, honey. Forget the Traveling anything. I want our name after that other chick flick, The Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.” Tiffany fluffed her perfectly coiffed tresses as Sweaty, err I mean Sue broke in again. “Change Ya-Ya to Blah-Blah and I’m all over it.” I could see her point — she was always tired and listless. Being a huge Seinfeld fan, I suggested changing Ya-Ya to Yada Yada Sisterhood, but was ordered to stay out of it because I wasn’t deemed sponge-worthy. Well!

“There’s always ‘The Secrets of the Claw-Claw Sisterhood,’ since apparently one of us can get quite catty,” piped up Harriet again. “Just who are you calling catty?” accused Tiffany. “Um, Catty? Did I say Catty? I meant Patty,” Harriet quickly recovered. “Meow” whispered Sue. “Well Thank you,” Tiffany fluttered her impossibly long eyelashes, “I do often get told I look like Lapone.” I overheard Moody Marsha mutter, “Duke. Patty Duke.”

Suffice it to say that we never came up with a name, but we did come up with our Menopausal Bylaws and I’m proud to share them here.

1. All members must wear Mood Rings so we can monitor how you’re feeling before we ever greet you.
2. If you don’t have a Mood Ring, we’ll go by the beads of perspiration on your forehead or the number of dark circles under your eyes.
3. If you lose your keys, glasses, pen, sunglasses or cell-phone, we have a Lost & Found. If you’ve lost your temper, sex drive or your mind, join the club.
4. If you invent a female Viagra that really works, you’re our new President.
5. If the lights go out suddenly, please rely on your own personal Hot-Flashlight.
6. If you forget other member’s names, make some (hot) flash-cards – – don’t try to be clever with, “Hey, Hot Stuff” or “Minny Paz.” We’ve heard every dumb joke.
7. Don’t come in here singing anything from Menopause: The Musical. Don’t even hum.
8. It’s actually a good thing to gain 20 lbs. That’s the kind of motivation you need to stick to your diet.
9. We’re sold out of our “Menopause is the new Puberty” bumper stickers. We never believed that anyhow.
10. Most importantly, Break all these Laws and do it with abandon. Don’t you know your God-Given rights of passage into Menopause, Sister??!

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