Why doesn’t anyone tell you about the dark, evil monster named ”Menopause”? It lurks in each of us ladies. Silent, like a hunter stalking its prey. Striking when you least expect it. Leaving you battered, bruised, fat, and sweaty.Yes, you have been bitched slapped and all that remains is this alien form that barely resembles you. You are expected to continue with your life, as though nothing has happened. Ignoring the saturated penguin like figure, looking back at you in the mirror.
Chapter two of your life has begun, and let me tell you it’s a cluster page turner. You are a hot mess and there is no turning back. It is presumed that you must forge ahead, ignoring the elephant in the room, which is now you. Spouses and children walk on eggshells, uncertain if your exorcist like behavior will return. Let’s be honest, there is no field of wild flowers with middle aged women skipping through them, while happy music plays in the background. Ladies smiling in their yoga outfits, giving testimonials of how marvelous menopause is. Whilst Oprah narrates how to ”embrace” your menopause. Sorry O but I am not going to fall for that! I hopped on that train you drove where less is more and find happiness in simple things that money can’t buy. You preached this from your fifty million dollar compound in California and I drank the kool-aid on that one, as Confused husband and One too many fought in the background over the one working toilet in our match box of a house.
I speak the truth! You will be: hot, bloated, fat, forgetful, and irate. You will resemble the Michelin man, and this is on a good day! All you will search for, is some place cool. You will exhibit behavior like an animal on some National Geographic episode searching for your comfort spot. You want a cool place where you can strip off your clothes, and be in your granny underwear, the kind you swore and vowed to yourself that you would never be caught dead in when you came across that horrid vision of your mom in them, which scarred you for life! Here is my story. Like it or not, it is your story too.
I am a fifty year old woman. I am attempting a career change. Here is the problem, I am no longer in my twenties. I go on lots of job interviews. I am interviewed by people who are 12 years old with acne and retainers. They start off their sentences with “Like, back in your day!, like did you……. They all call me Ma’am like I am some old feeble spinster. I stare at them blinking back tears mixed with sweat caused by a huge hot flash. I want to lunge over their Ikea desks and choke them. Although I know the desk wouldn’t hold me. It would collapse, I would break a hip, and I don’t have health insurance. Silence…… I hear the drops of sweat dripping off of me, hitting the plastic chair that I am now stuck to, as they roll onto the floor creating a puddle. I look down, it looks like I have peed on the floor of Skippy, my potential puberty stricken future boss.
Skippy’s eyes dart to the floor, his eyes widen and then bug out. He sucks his cheeks in and out causing him to resemble a fish. His phone rings and he answers, after a moment he says “Cool! See you dude in 20! Wait til you hear about the old lady who pissed in my office!”
Apparently I am not only old but deaf as well…..
Out Of My Head! 