9 Reasons Menopausal Women Might Not Be the Military's Secret Weapon
Not that we aren’t ready to blow some shit up
Drafting menopausal women, on its surface, sounds like a great idea. We’re already wearing cargo pants. We’re bored, pissed off, and have accrued ample PTO (paid time off) time to cover a war. We’ve already had our trauma and have seen some shit.
We (I’m using ‘we’ because I’m including the perimenopausal brigade) grew up not wearing seatbelts, so stick us in whatever doorless vehicle you want; we grew up napping in the back window of a sedan. And we’re used to parking minivans and motorhomes, so we could parallel-park the shit out of a Boeing-Sikorsky RAH-66 Comanche.
We know how to use analog maps and can already curse like a sailor.
You wouldn’t have to recruit people to cover the night shift since we’re up at all hours anyway. And we’re already pouring sweat like we’re having a hot girl Tehran summer.
Chemical warfare shouldn’t be an issue; our lungs are too heavily scarred from inhaling Aqua Net hairspray.
We’ve lost all our give-a-fuck hormone, are sick of everyone’s shit, and could really enjoy blowing some shit up.
But drafting the menopause militia wouldn’t come without some snags…
1. Supplemental Budget Increases
You’d have to bulk order millions of dollars in calcium and magnesium gummies; they keep our bones from turning to Swiss cheese. And we don’t want our bones looking like they’re riddled with bullet holes when the only thing we’ve lost a battle with is estrogen and progesterone.
2. DEFCON Air Con
The military’s refrigeration budget would blow through the roof, because we’re a bunch of hot-flashing bitches.
Transport vehicles would need to be retrofitted with AC units to keep us from melting the metal on the sides of the tank walls. Oh, and the AC button better be massive and neon-lit; we wouldn’t want to hit the artillery button as a whoopsyfuck.
3. Tank Retrofits
The tanks and transports will also have to be retrofitted to fit our 12-gallon Stanley cups because we’re without our emotional support water bottles we’re drier than the Sahara.
They’ll also need bathrooms, because chugging water with the same intensity you did kegstands with in college makes us pee every 7 minutes.
4. Outlet Outsourcing
The camps will need increased power outlets so that we can plug in the fans that keep us from melting into a human puddle at night.
And even more outlets for our CPAP machines.
5. Operation: Outfit
We don’t need to be outfitted with camo pants; we have those already from last summer’s sale at Old Navy. But the military boots would need to come with orthopedic inserts to deal with our plantar fasciitis. We may also need to drill some holes in them; otherwise we’ll be walking in boot-sized pools of toe sweat.
And the fatigues will need to be sourced from Lululemon because anything other than the softest brushed cotton makes our itching worse.
Also acceptable for attire would be camo-colored muumuus (we love a nice draft that blows up to our stench trench).
6. MRE Glow Ups
Military MRE’s (Meal Ready-to-Eat) would need one helluva menopausal glow up. We’ll need fiber-rich rations so that we’re not more backed up than military supply chains. And they’ll need to come with a milk box, like in primary school, for those bullet-holed bones (which can be stored in the air-conditioned tents, I guess).
7. Strategic Nap Coordination
You’ll need to put us in charge of war stuff scheduling, because figuring out the shifts that we nap in would be harder to plan than the Allied invasion of Normandy.
8. Enemy Confusion
Modern warfare techniques may have to change a little. The enemy will be super confused on the battlefield when we start strip-teasing our clothing off because we’re having a hot flash. But I’m sure we can use it in some sort of shock-and-awe guerrilla campaign.
9. Brain Foggy Comms
Intra-military communication might become a little confusing when we have our little foggy brain farts. Like when we forget the word for grenade launcher and accidentally call it the boom-boom tosser. Or calling the assault rifle the no-mo’-noob tube.
So the menopausal mafia would be a powerhouse force to draft to war, but not without a few hiccups (which make us pee our pants a little now).
Although I can’t guarantee we’d stay on the right side of the battlefield.
After having lured us over by throwing snacks at us, the enemy could subdue us by enticing us over with an arctic-level air-conditioned tent. In an arid warzone, you don’t wanna know what I’d do for a Klondike bar.
But other than that, put us in coach, because we’re already riled up, and blowing some shit up would be great for our perimenopausal psyche.
Join My Merry Band of Maniacs…
Don’t be scared, we only bite on Tuesdays.
$1 per month ($10/year) ~ $2 per month ~ $3 per month ~ $4 per month ~ $5 per month
Don’t have any money? Don’t worry, me neither, and I still love you.
Honestly, the Pentagon is not ready for a force that can read a paper map, operate on three hours of sleep, rescue every dog in the combat zone, and rename a grenade launcher the boom-boom tosser without losing tactical clarity. Menopausal women are not a secret weapon. They are the final boss level of “I have had enough.” The only real national security risk is forgetting the AC, the fiber, the fans, the orthopedic inserts, and the sacred 12-gallon Stanley cup. Wars have been lost for less.
Helpful as always Robin. But the fitness---can you meet our new rigorous ½ pull-up standard?