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You know you’re a Formerly when you would seriously consider–even for a moment–relocating to a country in which the culture is more embracing of women with your particular Formerly-related body changes. I hear that overfed women are considered prizes in some parts of Africa, and that facial hair is not entirely frowned upon in East Asia. This might just be urban beauty legend, but right before my period, I cling to these probable myths as signs that there is a place for Formerlies like me who are dipping their toes in the shallow waters of perimenopause.

My family and I just got back from a vacation in Culebra, a tiny Puerto Rican island (population: 3000ish) and I’ll tell you, I was ogled by the (very few) men I saw in the street like I haven’t been since I was in my 20s.

In case you think I’m bragging, I am not. I didn’t look my best, as the above picture of me getting a shot of Benadryl in the ass in the Culebra emergency room will attest. The day we arrived, I broke out in a full body rash of unknown origin, and spent much of our trip as an itchy, groggy, doped up mess. What’s more, I was on a 6-day bra strike, shaved nothing (for fear of rupturing one of my many scabs) and due to the humidity, my hair was Gilda Radner as Roseanne Roseannadanna, circa 1978.

And yet.

I have no explanation for the attention I received, save facile observations about cultural standards of beauty, none of which include festering pustules, as far as I know. The point is, I had a flash of thinking, Hmmm, maybe I was meant to grow old in Culebra, where it seems I still hover around the physical ideal, even at 42, with my pasty white, sweaty, braless mom body that’s covered with hives.

In the taxi ride back to the airport in San Juan, my daughters were playing “Would you rather,” in which they pose two unappealing alternatives and press one another to choose between them. Vivian said, “Would you rather…be cold the rest of your life or put mustard on your toes for the rest of your life?” Sasha asked, “Would you rather drink 1000 gallons of water or eat a spoonful of lava?”

What went through my mind: I’d rather be a Formerly surrounded by gorgeous young aspiring supermodels in New York City than a much-flirted-with rashy disaster on a small Caribbean island.

How’s that for priorities?