Latest news with #WeDoNotCareClub
Telegraph
5 days ago
- Lifestyle
- Telegraph
I don't believe any midlife woman who says they don't care what they look like
Are you a member of the We Do Not Care Club? It's an online sensation started by Melani Sanders, a 45-year-old mother of three from West Palm Beach, Florida, who invites midlife women to tell her what they no longer care about. From her bed, clad in an old, grey T-shirt and baseball cap, she rants about how she doesn't care about bras – 'bras suffocate us'. She doesn't care 'about looking pregnant when we're not pregnant – that's just our perimenopausal or menopausal bodies '. She doesn't care 'about being late, cos we have our own s--- to do'; or having unpainted toe nails – 'I'm going to wear my flip-flops, they are just my feet'. She doesn't care 'if you think I have a s--- attitude, or that I'd rather watch TikTok than clear up'. If she has chin hairs, or ' cellulite in short shorts, that's just how I look, God made me that way'. I have to say I love her attitude – in 2025, it still feels revolutionary to see a woman out and proud, blowing up so many social 'shoulds'. I particularly love that she is taking aim at the kind of dreary, midlife grooming which is expensive, painful and endless. You know what I mean: threading, waxing and toe maintenance that can easily become a full-time job for what the ghastly Gregg Wallace has described as 'women of a certain age'. But while I appreciate Sanders's brand of We Do Not Care sentiments, I'm afraid her credo is not actually what I see in my community of midlife women. The reality of life for my 'Queenagers' (my word, I thought we needed a more positive rebrand), is many of them buckling under a myriad number of 'cares'. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Melani Sanders (@justbeingmelani) My women are holding up the sky. Last week, one woman in our sharing circle talked about how she is only getting three hours of sleep a night and is worrying about burning out because she is single, looking after her mother with dementia, working full-time AND supporting her two sons. The boys are in their early 20s and are working for free as interns in London to try and get jobs in finance. Their mum is paying their rent to help them get on that first rung on the corporate ladder (AI has reduced the number of entry level graduate jobs available by 40 per cent, so competition is ferocious). I said maybe she should let them fend for themselves – but, like many parents, she is committed to helping them get launched in the world. And that is getting harder and harder, because this is a boomerang generation. Unsurprisingly, the poor lady looked close to collapse, and then she admitted she is worried about losing her own job. 'It's amazing how all the women get whacked as they hit 50,' she said. Redundancy is a massive midlife female 'care'. In the last week, I have been supporting five senior women with ostensibly amazing careers who have just been 'let go'. Their crime? To be over 50 in a world where gendered-ageism is real. It's not just the workplace where men have a whole life, and women a shelf life. Research conducted by my company found that, by 50, over half of women have been through at least five of the following: divorce, bereavement, redundancy, caring for elderly parents, or a Gen Z with an anxiety or mental health disorder (not to mention their own health issues, menopause, and other kinds of abuse). The midlife clusterf--- (as we call it). Add to that, the constant bombardment we women face from anti-ageing messages in our youth-obsessed culture, where freakishly young-looking female celebrities, from Nicole Kidman to Kris Jenner, are held up to us as exemplars of how we are supposed to look. And most of us can't just disappear into a We Do Not Care slob zone of stretchy tracksuit bottoms and witch hair chins, if we want to hang on to our already precarious places in the world. OK, if we work from home, we can slob around in work-out gear – but for most midlife women, it's just not as easy as saying We Do Not Care. We're told every day that our value is wrapped up in how we look. I'm all for throwing off the patriarchal programming, which values women primarily for being foxy and fecund. But I see so many women of my generation battling that conditioning. They're facing an internal war between their desire to move into a new phase of autonomy – letting it all hang out and putting their needs first – then oscillating back into caring very much indeed about their dependents, and how they keep their peckers up in the world. Why else is practically every woman I meet dosing themselves with Mounjaro? The tyranny to remain slim and sexy, and lose the dreaded 'meno belly' feels real. And it is depressingly omnipresent. Last month, for instance, I attended a launch at the House of Commons for a new campaign called What Women Want. It's supposed to be about ending violence against women, erasing the gender pay gap – all the big stuff. Ahead of it, Good Housekeeping magazine did a survey of its (mainly midlife) female readers asking them that very question: 'What do you want?' The top answer? 'To lose half a stone.' I told you: They Do Care. So while I love the devil may 'do not' care attitude to chin hairs and brassieres, clearing up after messy relatives and not pedicuring horny 50-something feet, this isn't the reality. We live in a culture where gendered ageism is alive and kicking, the pressures on midlife women are off the scale but nonetheless, we've got to stay in the game, because we don't get our pensions until we are 67 (and women retire with 35 per cent less in the pot than men). I'm afraid We Do Care because we HAVE to care. For now, Ms Sanders's vision is just a fantasy of what the world might be like if we valued older women for all that they are, not just their attempts to stay young. I applaud her mission, but I'm afraid it's not reality for most of yet. We'll know we really don't care when young women look forward to being middle aged, as the time when it all gets good – not dread every wrinkle as an impending sign of doom.
Mercury
28-06-2025
- Health
- Mercury
We Do Not Care: How social media revolution is laying bare the reality of menopause
Just over a month ago, an unremarkably-dressed, 45-year-old perimenopausal Florida mum posted a one-take video to her social media, and triggered a global movement. Mum-of-three Melani Saunders had rushed to the shops, jumped back in the car, caught her reflection and had a good look at herself. Hair dishevelled. Ill-fitting sports bra – it was the only one she could find. An outfit that was comfortable, but never going to pass muster on a catwalk. Not a scrap of make-up. The content creator, struggling with the symptoms of perimenopause – insomnia, brain fog, anxiety, weight gain, hot flushes to name a few – laughed and realised she could not care less about how she looked in public. Her bits were covered. She had shoes on. She had her groceries. So what? Still in the carpark, she picked up her phone and started recording. 'We're about to start a perimenopause and menopause club, OK?,' her unscripted speech began. 'And it's gonna be called the We Do Not Care Club … that's four letters,' she continued, counting them off on her fingers: 'We. Do Not. Care … WDNC'. What did that mean, she asked, before hilariously chronicling not just her outfit, but why she couldn't care less that her bra left 'everything swinging to one side … that is my situation … and I do not care'. She critiqued the zero effort she'd put into her hair, wrapped the summation with a shrug, saying 'so that's it, that's the story, point blank, period', and invited commenters to add their thoughts on what they did not care about today. It went nuts. Viral. Millions of fed-up women added their own WDNCs to join the club. Whether it was chin hair, undone washing, the fact they'd considered smothering their partners for breathing (that one quickly saw many commenters offer the poster an alibi 'whatever time or place – she was with me'), the frank confessions flowed thick and fast: unadorned, unfiltered, unapologetic and hilarious. WDNC chapters quickly popped up in other countries. Women 'of a certain age' – rarely are men described as being 'of a certain age' – had found their people. Saunders' social media accounts went ballistic. Her followers ballooned from about 100,000 pre-WDNC to almost 1 million on TikTok, and another 850,000 on Instagram. From the hundreds of thousands of comments posted with the same unpolished, no-BS bluntness and raw truth delivery, Saunders now chooses her favourites and reads them out in fresh posts. She accessorises her deadpan delivery – she reads mostly in a monotone – with a pair of glasses on her nose, another pair up on top of her head, and a hastily hand-lettered WDNC sign fastened to a rumpled shirt by a paperclip. Sometimes she adds a neck pillow. Sometimes a shower cap. Merchandise Saunders created by popular demand keeps selling out. 'We are putting the world on notice. We just do not care,' she says. BRAIN FOG, NIGHT SWEATS AND HAVING THE LAST LAUGH Finally, women are having the last laugh about menopause. Full disclosure: I. Do. Not. Care. If you've survived perimenopause and menopause unscathed, congratulations. Actually, I'm not remotely happy for you. I just want to glass you. If I could remember your name. And where I'd put down that glass. Because when your life has been turned upside down by a hormone change which reveals itself in hot flashes, flooding fits of barely-containable over-the-top rage, waking several times a night after yet another night sweat to change sweat-soaked sheets after you'd only just managed to GET to sleep because of the insomnia, it's hard to give a shit about much else. And equally hard to sugar-coat your interactions and conversations. Then there's the brain fog. And the fact that you can exercise five times a week, eat like a bird, and still pile on the kilograms more easily than breathing. Actually, our breathing is fine. But yours irritates the hell out of us. Australian media commentator, presenter and menopause awareness advocate Shelly Horton was quick to sign up to the WDNC, using her social media platform to take up Melani's meno mantle locally and declare Australia 'IN'. She now does her own updates, similarly dishevelled, always hilarious, and always paying tribute to Saunders. Horton, soon to release her second book on the subject – I'm Your Peri Godmother – was blindsided when she hit perimenopause aged 45 and was told to take antidepressants and maybe get a hobby. It would be another year before she would start on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) – which gave her enough relief to keep asking questions on her journey. For many women, menopause is a nightmare tour they never signed up for. It issues you with a ticket you don't want, and if you find a tour guide, they pretty much advise you to shut the hell up about it. My former GP for a year tried to prescribe antidepressants for my perimenopause symptoms. She was one of many who won't suggest HRT because of now-debunked research from years ago. Eventually I strode into her surgery a literal hot mess after a morning of hot flushes, operating on three hours sleep and a short fuse, and told her I wasn't depressed, but I bloody well would be if I ended up in jail for killing someone in a meno-rage, or got sacked because I couldn't run two thoughts together or remember the name of my boss some days. She silently nodded, and prescribed the HRT patches. There are different results for different people, so you have to speak to your GP about whether the patches are right for you. But for me, blessed relief came within two weeks. My partner could chew and breathe again without me wanting to smother him with a pillow. SHORT SUPPLY, SHORTER TEMPERS Now a HRT patch shortage that looks like spinning out to two years has seen many of my symptoms resurface. I switched medications in January, when my luck finally ran out despite monthly visits to chemists in six suburbs trying to fill the patch script. The alternatives just don't seem to work for me. Thankfully the meno-rage hasn't returned. Just don't mention the patch shortage. Horton's 'tour' has seen her co-write a book, and set up a business with Dr Ginni Mansberg Called Don't Sweat It which educates women and men about menopause in the workforce. On International Women's Day in 2023, she was part of a group who addressed parliament about the issue. Fast-forward one year and a Senate inquiry, and HRT was added to the PBS. When WDNC and Saunders hit her Instagram feed, Horton had enough HRT and lifestyle changes and knowledge on board to be ready for a laugh. The raw, honest, unapologetic humour hooked her. 'It's my personal dose of joy every day,' she says. 'Mid-life women have for so long been told to shut up and be invisible and accept this is our lot. 'This is Gen X raising a middle finger and saying 'we are going to talk about this'. 'Let's face it peri and menopause are hormonal chaos. If you can get a laugh you feel like you've won the day. 'My mum's generation didn't talk about it and didn't question doctors. 'Now we refuse to be quiet. We have ripped of the shame label. We are flushing it out into the open, and getting a load of information that is highly accessible.' Comment: So what DO we care about? If you're a bloke (or as one WDNC member hilariously termed men 'the penis people') who think menopause is all a beat up, and bemoans that men have midlife crises too … news flash … we do not care. What we care about is a shortage of hormone replacement therapy patches, which you can read about on the TGA website, which means they are almost impossible to get in Australia. It's great to have some HRT treatments on the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme at last but, for 18 months, patches, one of the forms of the HRT, have been in short supply across the world. Patches, gels and tablets are some of the HRT treatments. GPs stand ready to work with patients to see what, if any, treatment may be right for them, especially as they always come with some risks and possible side effects. And, of course, some treatments work better than others for certain individuals. I'm one of them (so you'll need to get your own professional medical advice). The slow-release hormone patches changed my life within a fortnight. Since last year I've not been able to get them, no matter how many suburbs I drive to. I've taken the search to country areas. Interstate. No dice. Pharmacists shook their heads and said 'maybe March'. March became April, April became June. June became 'now it says July'. The latest update: 'Well they hope December'. All because one international big pharma supplier of the patches stopped making them a couple of years ago, and countries quicker to react than us snaffled up supply. And Australia was already towards the end of the line. You have to wonder if blokes would put up with a Viagra shortage for that long. 'The gel combo works for me, but it doesn't for others,' says menopause campaigner Shelly Horton. 'It's great we finally have HRT treatments on the PBS. But if you can't actually fill your script … that's massive. 'As one of our advocates says: 'We don't clap for crumbs'.' Originally published as We Do Not Care: How social media revolution is laying bare the reality of menopause
Herald Sun
28-06-2025
- Health
- Herald Sun
We Do Not Care: How social media revolution is laying bare the reality of menopause
Just over a month ago, an unremarkably-dressed, 45-year-old perimenopausal Florida mum posted a one-take video to her social media, and triggered a global movement. Mum-of-three Melani Saunders had rushed to the shops, jumped back in the car, caught her reflection and had a good look at herself. Hair dishevelled. Ill-fitting sports bra – it was the only one she could find. An outfit that was comfortable, but never going to pass muster on a catwalk. Not a scrap of make-up. The content creator, struggling with the symptoms of perimenopause – insomnia, brain fog, anxiety, weight gain, hot flushes to name a few – laughed and realised she could not care less about how she looked in public. Her bits were covered. She had shoes on. She had her groceries. So what? Still in the carpark, she picked up her phone and started recording. 'We're about to start a perimenopause and menopause club, OK?,' her unscripted speech began. 'And it's gonna be called the We Do Not Care Club … that's four letters,' she continued, counting them off on her fingers: 'We. Do Not. Care … WDNC'. What did that mean, she asked, before hilariously chronicling not just her outfit, but why she couldn't care less that her bra left 'everything swinging to one side … that is my situation … and I do not care'. She critiqued the zero effort she'd put into her hair, wrapped the summation with a shrug, saying 'so that's it, that's the story, point blank, period', and invited commenters to add their thoughts on what they did not care about today. It went nuts. Viral. Millions of fed-up women added their own WDNCs to join the club. Whether it was chin hair, undone washing, the fact they'd considered smothering their partners for breathing (that one quickly saw many commenters offer the poster an alibi 'whatever time or place – she was with me'), the frank confessions flowed thick and fast: unadorned, unfiltered, unapologetic and hilarious. WDNC chapters quickly popped up in other countries. Women 'of a certain age' – rarely are men described as being 'of a certain age' – had found their people. Saunders' social media accounts went ballistic. Her followers ballooned from about 100,000 pre-WDNC to almost 1 million on TikTok, and another 850,000 on Instagram. From the hundreds of thousands of comments posted with the same unpolished, no-BS bluntness and raw truth delivery, Saunders now chooses her favourites and reads them out in fresh posts. She accessorises her deadpan delivery – she reads mostly in a monotone – with a pair of glasses on her nose, another pair up on top of her head, and a hastily hand-lettered WDNC sign fastened to a rumpled shirt by a paperclip. Sometimes she adds a neck pillow. Sometimes a shower cap. Merchandise Saunders created by popular demand keeps selling out. 'We are putting the world on notice. We just do not care,' she says. BRAIN FOG, NIGHT SWEATS AND HAVING THE LAST LAUGH Finally, women are having the last laugh about menopause. Full disclosure: I. Do. Not. Care. If you've survived perimenopause and menopause unscathed, congratulations. Actually, I'm not remotely happy for you. I just want to glass you. If I could remember your name. And where I'd put down that glass. Because when your life has been turned upside down by a hormone change which reveals itself in hot flashes, flooding fits of barely-containable over-the-top rage, waking several times a night after yet another night sweat to change sweat-soaked sheets after you'd only just managed to GET to sleep because of the insomnia, it's hard to give a shit about much else. And equally hard to sugar-coat your interactions and conversations. Then there's the brain fog. And the fact that you can exercise five times a week, eat like a bird, and still pile on the kilograms more easily than breathing. Actually, our breathing is fine. But yours irritates the hell out of us. Australian media commentator, presenter and menopause awareness advocate Shelly Horton was quick to sign up to the WDNC, using her social media platform to take up Melani's meno mantle locally and declare Australia 'IN'. She now does her own updates, similarly dishevelled, always hilarious, and always paying tribute to Saunders. Horton, soon to release her second book on the subject – I'm Your Peri Godmother – was blindsided when she hit perimenopause aged 45 and was told to take antidepressants and maybe get a hobby. It would be another year before she would start on hormone replacement therapy (HRT) – which gave her enough relief to keep asking questions on her journey. For many women, menopause is a nightmare tour they never signed up for. It issues you with a ticket you don't want, and if you find a tour guide, they pretty much advise you to shut the hell up about it. My former GP for a year tried to prescribe antidepressants for my perimenopause symptoms. She was one of many who won't suggest HRT because of now-debunked research from years ago. Eventually I strode into her surgery a literal hot mess after a morning of hot flushes, operating on three hours sleep and a short fuse, and told her I wasn't depressed, but I bloody well would be if I ended up in jail for killing someone in a meno-rage, or got sacked because I couldn't run two thoughts together or remember the name of my boss some days. She silently nodded, and prescribed the HRT patches. There are different results for different people, so you have to speak to your GP about whether the patches are right for you. But for me, blessed relief came within two weeks. My partner could chew and breathe again without me wanting to smother him with a pillow. SHORT SUPPLY, SHORTER TEMPERS Now a HRT patch shortage that looks like spinning out to two years has seen many of my symptoms resurface. I switched medications in January, when my luck finally ran out despite monthly visits to chemists in six suburbs trying to fill the patch script. The alternatives just don't seem to work for me. Thankfully the meno-rage hasn't returned. Just don't mention the patch shortage. Horton's 'tour' has seen her co-write a book, and set up a business with Dr Ginni Mansberg Called Don't Sweat It which educates women and men about menopause in the workforce. On International Women's Day in 2023, she was part of a group who addressed parliament about the issue. Fast-forward one year and a Senate inquiry, and HRT was added to the PBS. When WDNC and Saunders hit her Instagram feed, Horton had enough HRT and lifestyle changes and knowledge on board to be ready for a laugh. The raw, honest, unapologetic humour hooked her. 'It's my personal dose of joy every day,' she says. 'Mid-life women have for so long been told to shut up and be invisible and accept this is our lot. 'This is Gen X raising a middle finger and saying 'we are going to talk about this'. 'Let's face it peri and menopause are hormonal chaos. If you can get a laugh you feel like you've won the day. 'My mum's generation didn't talk about it and didn't question doctors. 'Now we refuse to be quiet. We have ripped of the shame label. We are flushing it out into the open, and getting a load of information that is highly accessible.' Comment: So what DO we care about? If you're a bloke (or as one WDNC member hilariously termed men 'the penis people') who think menopause is all a beat up, and bemoans that men have midlife crises too … news flash … we do not care. What we care about is a shortage of hormone replacement therapy patches, which you can read about on the TGA website, which means they are almost impossible to get in Australia. It's great to have some HRT treatments on the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme at last but, for 18 months, patches, one of the forms of the HRT, have been in short supply across the world. Patches, gels and tablets are some of the HRT treatments. GPs stand ready to work with patients to see what, if any, treatment may be right for them, especially as they always come with some risks and possible side effects. And, of course, some treatments work better than others for certain individuals. I'm one of them (so you'll need to get your own professional medical advice). The slow-release hormone patches changed my life within a fortnight. Since last year I've not been able to get them, no matter how many suburbs I drive to. I've taken the search to country areas. Interstate. No dice. Pharmacists shook their heads and said 'maybe March'. March became April, April became June. June became 'now it says July'. The latest update: 'Well they hope December'. All because one international big pharma supplier of the patches stopped making them a couple of years ago, and countries quicker to react than us snaffled up supply. And Australia was already towards the end of the line. You have to wonder if blokes would put up with a Viagra shortage for that long. 'The gel combo works for me, but it doesn't for others,' says menopause campaigner Shelly Horton. 'It's great we finally have HRT treatments on the PBS. But if you can't actually fill your script … that's massive. 'As one of our advocates says: 'We don't clap for crumbs'.' Originally published as We Do Not Care: How social media revolution is laying bare the reality of menopause
Winnipeg Free Press
28-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Winnipeg Free Press
What's next for not caring?
Instagram is mostly The Bad Place now, to the point where I struggle to know what it's even for. It's all influencers and ads — including some very specific ones for devices to improve neck humps which feel extremely targeted!!! But sometimes, you stumble upon someone who reminds you why the internet is still occasionally, The Good Place. And for me, that person is Melani Sanders (@justbeingmelani). She is the creator of the now-viral We Do Not Care Club, a series of videos in which she lists things, in her incredible deadpan, that she and her fellow peri-menopausal and menopausal women don't care about anymore. What does that mean? I'll let her explain: Advertisement Why this ad? 'We are tired of carrying the emotional load, tired of being polite about pain. And tired of pretending to care about things that no longer serve us.' A random sampling: 'We don't care if something is dishwasher safe. It is now. And will be from now on.' 'We do not care if we were using the flashlight on our phone to look for our phone.' 'We do not care about summer bodies. Summer is getting the same body as every other season.' The We Do Not Care Club has become a full-fledged movement, with over a million people following Sanders across her social platforms since she posted the first video in May. The View is talking about it. Katie Couric Media is talking about it. This surprises me not at all. I think there is a massive appetite for peri- and menopause-related content, especially content that, as Sanders says, sees women showing up with 'humour, vulnerability and fierce authenticity.' For too long, this phase of life has been shrouded in mystery. It's not shocking to me that a culture that prizes youth will tell you everything about when you get your period – which is still not much!!! – and nothing about when your period stops. I am living for all these smart, hilarious women talking about this, including the women of Small Achievable Goals , the CBC Gem workplace comedy about menopause (you can read my interview with them here.) I am also living for women shedding societal expectations and pressures and choosing peace and freedom instead. This is how culture changes. Tell me Nexties: what do you not care about anymore?
New York Times
24-06-2025
- Lifestyle
- New York Times
Chin Hair, Laundry, Your Opinion: Women in Menopause Don't Care
Unpainted toenails. Chin hairs. Separating laundry by darks, lights and colors. Dress codes. What do women in perimenopause and menopause have to say about these things? We do not care. That is the message being spread by Melani Sanders, a 45-year-old mother of three and social media influencer in West Palm Beach, Fla., who has gained a huge following for celebrating women of a certain age who have stopped trying to please everyone. Hundreds of thousands of women around the world have responded to Ms. Sanders' call to share what they no longer care about. They're now all members of her 'We Do Not Care' Club. In viral videos, Ms. Sanders rattles off their responses. She peers out from behind her reading glasses (with another two pairs tucked into her T-shirt collar) and deadpans: 'We do not care about arm fat. It's not our fault our muscles grow down and not up.' She looks down at her notebook, checking off that submission with a pen before moving onto the next one. 'We do not care if we don't show up for the family cookout. Most of y'all have undiagnosed trauma that we honestly just don't want to deal with right now.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
