on new language

When we find ourselves in a new reality the language we've commonly used to explain ourself to ourself, or to others, may fall short of fully capturing the new situation. Words are constantly being invented, tried out, and fitted into our daily life.

Today I learned a new word. It is, sadly, menopot. A menopot is the spare tire menopausal women aquire as yet another indignity of aging, as the fat they've accumulated around the hips and thighs over many years begins to defy gravity and migrate to the mid torso at the signal of certain hormones. Basically a weapon of mass (as opposed to mass destruction), the menopot is a general cause for the demise of self esteem, any possibility of finding a nicely fitting jacket and perhaps, the end of the 'little black dress.'

As a matter of clarification, a menopot is not to be confused with the all too common muffin top, prevalent in younger women. No, this particular diabolical trait locates itself a bit higher, and is a bit harder to defeat. The bulge, like the word, is apparently not going away.

Undaunted, however, I am making a call for women everywhere to own our language and find our own meaning for the term, menopot. Several leap to mind. First, menopot could refer to a new product, manufactured upon the legalizing of marijuana for the purpose of peace of mind for those who find themselves in mid life whitewater. "Here honey, have some menopot. You'll feel better." And you will. Both of you.

Relax!! all you conservatives, who are about to flog me, remember I AM CANADIAN! We legalized the devil weed years ago for medicinal purposes, and I think a good case, yes, a very good case, could be made that a woman in mid life who can no longer fit into her favorite jeans and jacket is, yes, indeed, in a condition that may well require medication.

Of lesser interest might be a woman's retirement fund - call it her menopot. One of the blessings of no longer being able to fit into high fashion is that her 401K has the chance to grow. And such a surge in personal riches might well be named, a menopot. Nice. A slight bulge in the middle feels much better when one imagines it in a beach chair, sitting by the ocean during an early-ish retirement.

Other than that, the only good reason I can think to use the term menopot might be to name a quaint little tea room the name ~ Chez Petit Menopot ~ and to secretly offer patrons a "menopot o' tea" (wink wink nudge nudge) which would link us back to the beginning of this blog.

So you see, I am coping. As best I can. Learning. Growing. Expanding my vocabulary. Becoming expressive. Tomorrow I may tackle the new term, "fem-bot" coined by a reporter and used on Rachel Maddow's political comments last night.

ps - my lovely assistant just suggested another - the menopot at the end of the rainbow ... hmmm... we could do something with that! It's either laugh or cry at this stage of the game!