You know what no one tells you about getting older as a woman? That the human body—this miraculous machine capable of growing an entire human being—hits perimenopause and suddenly behaves like a used car with a salvage title. Sure, it still runs, but only if you jiggle the keys just right, pray to the gods of lubrication, and ignore the ominous rattling under the hood.

Take me, for example. I can’t sleep. My skin is dry enough to start a brush fire. I’m hungry all the time, snacking like it’s a competitive sport, and my joints ache as if they’re auditioning for a role in a retirement home commercial. My knee? Oh, she’s on strike—probably from my obsessive gym schedule. At this point, I value naps and food above all else, but don’t get me wrong: I’m not cooking. Takeout is my love language.

Somewhere along the way, my priorities shifted. Things that used to stress me out—like whether I’ve vacuumed—no longer matter. (Honestly, the vacuum can sit in the closet and think about its choices.) Instead, my days revolve around trying new supplements, hoping one might magically restore me to a functioning human. Will it be magnesium this week? Ashwagandha? Collagen powder that costs more than a car payment? Who knows.

Productivity? It’s a coin toss. Some days I’m a powerhouse, fueled by mysterious hormonal lightning. Other days, I’m practically glued to the couch, staring at the wall and wondering if this counts as “resting metabolism.” My body’s thermostat is equally unpredictable: sometimes I’m freezing, sometimes I want to peel off my skin like a banana.

And yet—despite all the glitches, the aches, the betrayals—I know I’m lucky. Getting older is a privilege. My expiration date hasn’t come yet, and for that, I’m grateful. Sure, I miss the days when my body just worked without complaint, but arthritis comes bundled with wisdom, and maybe that’s not such a bad trade.

So, here’s to hot flashes, naps, and DoorDash dinners. The youth may have carefree skin and working knees, but I’ve got hard-earned perspective—and, frankly, that’s worth more than having a spotless house.

Kim Van Meter is a former full-time reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Escalon Times and The Riverbank News; she continues to provide a monthly column. She can be reached at kvanmeter@oakdaleleader.com.