Midlife Mayhem: to Hell and Back

I know this topic is taboo for many people ("nice" people don't mention it in public), but I’m pretty sure a reality TV show about menopausal women…let’s call it Midlife Mayhem: to Hell and Back…would be an instant hit and a sponsor's goldmine.

For one thing, it would be educational. Perky, oblivious, it'll-never-happen-to-me younger women need to know what's in store. And men forced to cohabit with midlife women would finally make sense of the roiling cauldron their lives have become (some female partners get it but are no less afraid). It would be exciting. Most people would be stunned…enthralled…captivated by the bizarre behaviors of which midlife women are capable. It would be suspenseful. The physical/emotional/behavioral midlife roller coaster ride would absolutely thrill viewers with its unbelievable twists & turns. And special “cliffhanger” episodes could put a bunch of midlife women together in one small, enclosed space. These episodes could involve non-stop baking, wild, uncoordinated hormonal swings, and knitting needles. They could NOT be done live, as they would put a studio audience in grave danger and present liability headaches for sponsors.

One MM episode could follow a couple through a single day at home. Our protagonist, let’s call her Eve, is freezing and cranks up the thermostat. Her partner sneaks by and turns it down. They repeat this several times. Then, Eve’s internal blast-furnace suddenly fires up (fluctuating hormones cause her pilot light to go out, flame on, go out, flame on, etc., throughout the day & night). She breaks out in a sweat, until her hair is stuck to her forehead. She strips down to B & B (briefs & bra) and throws her clothes at the dog. She turns the thermostat to "off." Her head snaps around like a hunting raptor’s until she spots her partner, cowering, quaking, in a dark corner of the living room. She smiles and says, “Want some cheesecake, honey?” About an hour later, just as her partner resumes breathing normally, the cycle begins again.

Infrared cameras will track the couple throughout the night, where the fun continues. Our protagonist alternately hogs all the covers (occasionally adding six down blankets to the pile) and throws all the blankets on the floor on HER side of the bed. She curses in her sleep and does NOT wake up to retrieve the covers, a job that falls to her exhausted partner. This nightmare, by the way, explains why most early TV couples, instead of one marital bed, had paired twin beds—the space between the beds acts as a sort of “safety buffer” for the beleaguered partner. They didn’t call her Mrs. Cleaver for nothing.

Another episode could involve Eve suddenly taking off one day for the regional zoo. For the entire day, no one knows where she’s gone. Frantic phone calls buzz from cell tower to cell tower in an attempt to locate her, while she’s at the zoo, weeping and taking closeup photos of every beastly mother. In between shots, she stuffs her face with greasy popcorn. She tries to climb the fence at the gibbon enclosure. She offers a mother hippo money and a scarf. She tells a drooling tiger about her deep regret at not becoming a ballet dancer. Human parents quickly steer their strollered children away, giving Eve a wide berth. They report her to zoo officials. By the time numerous reports lead zoo security to track her down, she’s driving through McDonald’s for super-sized fries and a chocolate shake on her way home.

The Halloween episode might find Eve's partner hiding all the sharp kitchen utensils, as Eve berates The Entire Planet for its continuing discrimination against women. Her partner runs for the basement, as Eve’s tirade turns personal, condemning her partner for not vacuuming out the toaster. Eve is suddenly overcome with love & gratitude at the mere idea of decorative measuring spoons. She calls sweetly, but her partner mumbles something about “groceries…milk…sedatives…” and makes it out the back door. It’s seven degrees. Eve’s partner is wearing a t-shirt and pajama pants but doesn’t feel the cold. Eve bastes sweet & sour ribs and hums “You Are My Sunshine.”

The Valentine’s Day episode will show the folly of Eve’s partner attempting to say something nice. Eve is still unfamiliar with and horrified by her new midlife body—the carb-inflated monster truck tire around her middle, the thinning uncooperative hair, the wrinkies around her mouth and eyes that make her look perpetually aghast, the flesh that must now (thanks to half a lifetime of gravity) be corralled, hoisted, and carefully positioned in clothes that can only be categorized as “stretchy,” the libido that switches randomly and without warning between “You’ve GOT to be kidding me” and “NOW!” and the failing eyesight that makes her squint like a mole. Through the first half of the episode, her partner makes unsuccessful attempts to pay Eve sincere, heartfelt compliments, finally giving up and taking a nap. Through the last half of the episode, Eve cries and throws dishes because no one ever ever ever says anything nice about her anymore.

I’m telling you, Midlife Mayhem: to Hell and Back would be a blockbuster. It would have everything: love, sex, food, danger, humor, stuff broken or blown up, and all-out war. It would be an advertising dream, sandwiched between Dr. Oz's latest midlife “skin recovery” method and Dr. Ruth's “spice it up” sex advice for folks over 50. 

The show would have an instant, enormous Facebook fan club. Women would sport "I {heart} Eve" hoodies. Kitchen knives would come in pink. Vid clip montages of Eve alternately screaming and cooing would go viral on YouTube. 

YOU would TOTALLY watch it. I wouldn’t watch it, though—I’m kinda “burnt out” on reality (cue maniacal cackling).