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"Somehow I thought the word wouldn&amp;#039;t apply to me. Hot flashes. Mood swings. Loss of sex drive. These were things I&amp;#039;d heard vaguely about or read in magazines but didn&amp;#039;t pay much attention to. Menopause was for older women. Me? I&amp;#039;m 48, and I thought that when the time came, I&amp;#039;d just man up, or woman up as the case may be, and muscle my way through as I&amp;#039;d done so many other times in my life. I would not succumb to a hot flash.  But of course I was wrong. Because menopause is a destination you reach only after the fact \u2014 12 months after your last period \u2014 it&amp;#039;s not always clear that you&amp;#039;re on this train, nor when you will arrive. Before then, you&amp;#039;re still in perimenopause, which is technically where I am. I&amp;#039;ve had 3 periods in the last 8 months, and each time they take me completely by surprise: while on vacation, while wearing white pants. It&amp;#039;s almost like I&amp;#039;m 14 again; I never know when or if I&amp;#039;m going to get my period.  But I really knew I was menopausal two summers ago, when I thought I might have to divorce my husband. His crime? He&amp;#039;d put more ice in a friend&amp;#039;s glass than in mine.  Steve* and I have been married for ten years, and we have a 7-year-old son, Max. Steve is my second husband (my first turned out to have had a girlfriend, which really wasn&amp;#039;t OK with me), and he comes from good Midwestern stock. I&amp;#039;m ashamed to recall the words I flung at him, but it went something like this: Steve no longer loves me. Our marriage is over. He prefers the witty conversation of my friend and proved it by giving her more ice cubes.  Never mind that we were low on ice and my husband did the hospitable thing. Never mind that the logic of fewer ice cubes makes no sense. Never mind that my husband adores me, most of the time.  What madwoman had hijacked my mind? And it was after that fight that the puzzle began to fall into place: for many months, I&amp;#039;d been weepier and angrier, like I had PMS all the time. And I&amp;#039;d been sweating a lot at night, which is odd for someone who&amp;#039;s always cold. &amp;quot;You&amp;#039;re the only person I know who gets dressed to go to bed,&amp;quot; Steve would say. But I&amp;#039;d been often waking up, drenched in sweat with my heart racing. Was it the flannel sheets? The wool pajamas? The heat turned up too high?  The ice cube fight was like a flashing neon sign: Welcome to Menopause country. No turning back.  When, dear readers, did you know you were in Menopause country? *I&amp;#039;ve changed the names of my family and best friend. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.womansday.com/health-fitness/a44864/welcome-to-menopause-country-2627/>