Just when I thought I was heading for Big Changes in my life, the red carpet rolls out in front of me.
It’s no secret. I’ve been waiting for a Dame Menopause to permanently take reign in my uterine castle since I was 13 years old and changed my middle name to Carrie. I may have even cried when my older sister comforted me by saying that it would go away in about 40 years. FORTY YEARS????
My lady doc has been telling me that I’ve been in perimenopause (a term which reminds me of the band, Journey, for some odd reason) for the last 5 years. What the f&*ck is THAT? Translation: Everyone around me has to tolerate Menopauzilla for an unknown number of years BEFORE I actually start Hot Flashdancing? As if I’m not charming enough without this bucket of hormones randomly being dumped on my head?
Come ON! I’m done already. I was SO over this sh!t 16 years and 9 months ago. Can Mother Nature NOT understand that I’m a Two and Through kind of gal? (Some –my kids- will argue I should have opted for None and Done, but accidents happen. Twice.)*
And the real deal has been taunting me for the last 2 years! I twirl around, for months on end,
thinking that my rite of passage into a life with “no strings” attached has arrived. And just like that.
The Red Baron swoops in and shoots down my dreams.
So I’ll just sit here on the couch, with a hot water bottle on my abdomen and a 5 lb. bag of Peanut M&Ms on my lap, b!tching about punctuation! Pray for those around me.
*disclaimer: I do love my kids and my life. My heart goes out to anyone struggling to have children and the issue hits very close to home. It’s just that the constant sound of death metal coming from the basement, the never-ending eye-rolling, and perpetual p!ss on the toilet seat occasionally gets the best of me.