Which Wizard Of Oz Character Are You Based On Your Menopause Symptoms? And Yes, It’s All Of Them.
A Technicolor breakdown brought to you by collagen envy and industrial-grade lube.
https://medium.com/slackjaw/which-wizard-of-oz-character-are-you-based-on-your-menopause-symptoms-and-yes-its-all-of-them-c0ecd6166cba
Photo by ActionVance on Unsplash
You’ve hit menopause, and your body has decided to betray you in increasingly mysterious ways. But fear not! Using the highly scientific diagnostic tool that is The Wizard of Oz, we can match your symptoms with unsettling, possibly-too-accurate precision.
Dorothy – The One in Denial
Still clicking your heels and whispering, “There’s no place like pre-menopause”? Longing to have your life back – perfect skin, perfect hair, the ability to wear heels for longer than an hour?
Hate to break it to you, but your ruby slippers now come with arch support, your face is prone to clusters of raised bumps on your chin, like witch warts, and your hair is falling out like you’re molting for winter.
Dorothy represents your desperate longing for the days before your skin turned on you and you started getting your face waxed by someone who whispers, “This might sting,” like it’s a threat.
The Good Witch, Glinda – Magical Misunderstandings
Miss the days when you could chat with people without spiraling into generational despair?
If Gen Zs and Alphas sound like they’re speaking in hieroglyphic emojis, and you alternate between admiring these little Munchkins and being utterly baffled by their bubble-floating, snowflake worldview – congratulations. You’re Glinda.
You still sparkle, but it’s mostly from moisturizer that costs more than your car insurance.
The Scarecrow – Where the Fuck Is My Brain?
Congrats, you now have the cognitive function of Toto after a tornado!
Forget why you walked into a room? Struggling to finish sentences? Put your car keys in the fridge again? Hot flashes leave you begging for someone to throw a bucket of water on you?
You, my friend, are officially the Scarecrow. Your brain has left the group chat, and no amount of leafy greens, ginkgo supplements, or Sudoku apps will bring it back.
The Tin Man – Your Sex Drive Is on Strike
No, Bill, you do not need to Google “signs you’re bad in bed.” It’s not you. It’s my estrogen levels.
The Tin Man represents your once-functional sex drive, now rusted shut like a 1980s Ford Pinto. Add in dryness levels that require industrial-grade lube and a bedtime preference for Netflix, pajamas, and heartless rejection – we’ve got ourselves a match.
Also, stop touching me. Let me rust in peace.
The Cowardly Lion – The Emotional Rollercoaster
You cried at a paper towel commercial.
You got irrationally angry when your salad arrived without sweet potato fries.
You are a walking, weeping, screaming contradiction, and no one is safe. The Cowardly Lion represents the unhinged emotional turbulence of menopause, where even minor inconveniences lead to either tears or a full-fledged WWE-style kitchen showdown – with one paw tied behind my back. I’ll fight you standing on one foot. I’ll fight you with my eyes closed.
The Wicked Witch – Envy, Closet Eating, and a Mysterious Gut
That expanding midsection? Not your fault. (Okay, partially your fault. Don’t look behind the curtain. I am closet-eating the party-sized bag of Peanut M&Ms again. But mind your own damn business.)
The Wicked Witch embodies your quiet rage at younger women with their collagen, wrinkle-free foreheads, and well-rested faces. Also, fun fact: your metabolism no longer exists. It’s shat the bed and is now a haunted Roomba – buzzing randomly, begging for consumption, and mostly full of emotional crumbs.
And your gut? It holds grudges against dairy, gluten, and joy.
The Flying Monkeys – Your Digestive System Is Driving You Ape Shit
Once upon a time, things moved in your body.
Now? Not so much.
The Flying Monkeys symbolize what should be happening in your digestive tract – but instead, there’s bloating, discomfort, and a deeply unhinged late-night Google search: “How much fiber is too much fiber?”
You’ve considered legally questionable detox teas. Or a tapeworm.
No judgment.
Final Diagnosis: Welcome to Oz. You’re Stuck Here.
You’re all of them— every single one.
So stop dreaming of lying in a field of poppies until this is over or waiting for the Wizard (aka your doctor, who looks 14 and may be vaping) to offer a magical hormonal fix.
There is no escaping Oz – just compression socks, rage, and whatever you just flushed down the toilet that may or may not have been your dignity.
You’ve hit menopause, and your body has decided to betray you in increasingly mysterious ways. But fear not! Using the highly scientific diagnostic tool that is The Wizard of Oz, we can match your symptoms with unsettling, possibly-too-accurate precision.
Loved this piece! I am OZ! ALL OF THEM are in my 5'2" 50 year old body (lol) fabulous analogy!
I'm only in my mid-30s so on the cusp of menopause, but I definitely feel the cowardly lion. I have started to cry at firetrucks, and when people smile at my kid.