04/11/2025
The Lost Blueprint
Once upon a time, menopause wasn’t a “problem.”
It was simply the season when a woman moved from one kind of power to another.
Our grandmothers didn’t talk about “managing symptoms.” They adjusted to what life and nature asked of them.
They rose with sunlight, not alarms.
They cooked what they grew, and what they couldn’t grow, they traded.
They slept when it was dark, and moved their bodies every day — not because an app told them to, but because life required it.
Menopause wasn’t something to fix.
It was the proof you’d lived long enough to know who you are.
When the Modern World Hijacked Womanhood
Then everything sped up.
Factories. Plastics. Pills. Neon lights. Deadlines.
And let’s be honest — it crept into every corner of our lives.
We started colouring our hair every six weeks, rubbing synthetic “anti-ageing” creams into our skin, washing with foaming chemicals that smell like fake fruit.
We sleep on mattresses soaked in flame retardants, in houses painted with VOCs, surrounded by furniture that off-gasses toxins while we breathe.
Even our “self-care” got hijacked — nails filled with acrylic dust, lashes glued with fumes, perfumes that promise confidence but deliver endocrine chaos.
And here’s the thing, Queen — it’s not all your fault.
You were sold this version of womanhood.
You were told to stay polished, poreless, perfect.
You were told that youth was survival, that looking fresh meant belonging.
So you did what every woman does: you adapted.
But now you know.
And when you know, you get to choose.
