I am thrilled to turn fifty. I haven’t been so excited about flipping decades since I was ten. Ten was my passage into menarche, womanhood insofar as that is defined by hormonal surges and monthly blood-purges. Fifty is my passage to moonpause, womanhood marked by the absence of such surging and purging. A joyous prospect!

I have been debilated by bloat, cramps, low energy, seeing through dark red-tinted lenses for three days of every twenty-five for nearly forty years, and, while honouring that phase of life and blessing the babes I bore, I am now beyond ready for my freedom.

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