A few months ago I went to my annual checkup at the OB/GYN. I went to a new doctor who was a man, because at this point in my life I don’t care about the gender of the doctor performing the pap test. I care that they’re qualified.

Anyway, the whole drive to my appointment I had an inner dialogue about what I would say if the doctor brought up the topic of having kids, given my age.

Let’s get this out of the way now. I do not, nor will I ever, want kids.

No, I won’t change my mind.

But I had this theory the doctor would give me the look and say, “So, you’re 30 ... you plan on having kids? Because the window is closing.”

I then played out this whole monologue in my head about how I would list off to the doctor the laundry list of reasons (there are about 100,000) why I don’t want to be a mom and that it’s not my sole purpose in life.

I would then get off my proverbial soapbox and kindly ask them to send my birth control prescription to the pharmacy.

This was sure going to happen — in my opinion.

So I’m in the exam room, the doctor performs the pap and then mentions that I start taking 2,000 units of vitamin C.

“Why?” I asked.

“To get your body ready for menopause,” he said.

“… but I’m 30,” I responded (I have since turned 31, call assisted living!)

He didn’t bat an eye.

I have never felt more like an old maid in my life.

Now listen. I call myself old, I act like I’m old. I even go to bed at an early hour. I joke and say I’m a Golden Girl. Just call me Blanche.

But for a medical professional to tell me that I need to get ready for menopause at my age was just too much.

I left and immediately called my mom and sisters and posted about my experience on Facebook and Twitter. I needed reassurance.

Everyone thought this doctor was nuts and that I should find a new OB/GYN, stat.

None of my friends around my age or older have ever had a similar conversation with their doctor. That night I Googled the average age of menopause — it’s 50, like I thought.

So this conversation was 20 years too soon. To make matters worse I got called “ma’am” later that day. PSA: Calling a woman “ma’am” insinuates that she’s old. Want to make her day? Call her miss.

To add more insult to injury, I have received multiple flyers in the mail from AARP since that doctors appointment. I tweeted at AARP and they said they took me off their mailing list. I received another flyer last week.

The funniest part was, the doctor never mentioned the closing window of my child-bearing years. I guess he just looked at my chart, saw I checked off “single” and figured that ship has sailed.

I had stressed myself out and had that whole inner dialogue about not wanting kids for nothing. But apparently I’m passed that and need to worry about “the changes.”

I never did pick up 2,000 units of vitamin C. I have 20 years to do that.

Follow CJ Fairfield on Twitter @FairfieldCj

(1) comment


Babe, you are headed for pre menopause, which is when your body prepares for menopause, take the C. Menopause was over for me at 48. Over. Your body spends years preparing first. That said, one of my first friends after marriage at 19 when I moved to MD was also a newlywed, 37 and pregnant. She had two. No problem at all, and did she ever have some conversations with her gyn. Back then it was unique.

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