We went to see "Menopause, The Musical" in Nashville last week. The four women in the play were talented, good singers, good actresses. It worked.

But I wasn't overly fond of it. I'm not sure I'd recommend it. Even though it had a few good lines and one very good Tina Turner impression, it was slightly annoying — four women singing new lyrics to old songs playing off the fun and the misery of going through menopause.

Had this musical come out in the 1970s, it would have been much more effective. The topic of menopause wasn't polite table talk then. Today, you can't even turn on the TV (day or night) without hearing about our periods and birth control and erectile dysfunction — please! 

So, four women singing and dancing and making fun of menopause just didn't do it for me.

Another problem with the play was that it offered up four female stereotypes that are very, very tired. The corporate executive (sure, she was African American), the Susan Lucci aging-actress type, the Iowa housewife visiting the Big Apple, and the hippie Earth mother.

The audience was filled with what we used to call "gray hairs." It was mostly women and only a few brave men laughed and seemed to find the play hilarious. So I wondered what was wrong with me.

Jaded, I suppose. That and the fact that women are so wonderfully complicated, yet simple and unique. Every woman I have ever truly loved had her own special offering for this Earth. No woman I ever loved remotely behaved as any one of the four women on stage. 

Rebecca — A soothing, brilliant fabulous baker and accountant. Her husband left her for his younger secretary. She made it through and raised her daughter alone. He gave up his law practice and hid in California for several years to avoid paying child support. Rebecca is kind and loving, warm and witty. And she loves tennis and the piano. She did not remarry.

Nikki — Funny, stylish, fantastic interior decorator who knows good food and how to be the most fabulous host. She recently lost her best friend, her calico cat, Katy. She now has a new resident, a Burmese mix named Benjamin. She always has the coolest clothes and always treats me as though I am the most important person in her life when I visit her or she comes to see me. Her husband left her almost 18 years ago. She survived and has managed to build a wonderful life for herself. She did not remarry.

Karen — She was my best friend in high school and college. She was lovely and complicated, destined to marry and have a child before the rest of us. She did. She earned her degree in special education, and she had such a gentle calming presence. Her husband fell in love with another woman and they divorced. I've lost touch with her and do not know if she has ever remarried. 

Jeanne — A brilliant geologist. She never recovered from her first abusive marriage. She lost herself to drugs and alcohol. I do not know if she is alive today. 

Monica — She and her husband divorced after they lost their second child. She was my best friend in Alaska. And she was so good with my children. She loved my kids and me and that was good as I was always alone with them as Stinky was always up on the slope.

I don't know what kind of woman you are, but I do know that divorce hurts.

I'm not interested in hearing four women bitch about menopause for 90 minutes. But I'm here to lend an ear and a voice to your pain. Thank you for giving me this opportunity and keep the comments coming!