There are some really happy women who are thriving during menopause. I know – I’ve read their blogs.
They seem to be tripping through the meadow of menopause, and I am happy for them in an I want to stab you in the neck kind of way. I suspect that they are either on hormones or mushrooms, but I can’t accuse them of either without proof.
I’m pretty sure these same women were once the girls who said, I can’t really empathize with your PMS because I never get it. I kind of wanted to stab them in the neck, too.
Apparently for some of you, menopause has been brought by the angels. [quote button_text=”Tweet the Quote”]For me, menopause has been more like a Poltergeist.[/quote]
1. Menopause sometimes causes the same behavior as possession.
- I was watching So You Think You Can Dance the other night, happy as a lark. The dancing was beautiful, my popcorn was warm, and I was darn close to that meadow. Then I reached for my water and knocked it over. I bent over to pick up the bottle, causing me to belch in a beautiful way. The water bottle was further away than I thought, so I kicked my legs for a little extra gusto to get over the arm rest on the couch (God forbid I stand up). My legs kicked over my bowl of popcorn, and let’s just say that I made Scarface seem like a Disney movie. It took me an hour to get myself back under control.
2. The light brought by no periods is quickly replaced by the darkness of a variety of other gifts.
- That’s right. Cramps are gone, but they are replaced by an exhaustion that attacks you at the start of every day. You wake up in the morning with an emotional foot on your chest, wondering why the beautiful sunrise outside your window just annoys the hell out of you. Your phone rings and whoever’s number comes up becomes the most annoying person in the universe. The spider in the shower no longer scares you. Your shoe smashes it with enough force to crush the skull of an alligator.
3. Menopause is not the harbinger of great youth.
- Here’s the truth – we’re getting older. On a recent trip to the beach, I looked at my decolletage and realized I was going to have to name it something else. It was all bumpy, as if the area between my breasts had broken out in a mild form of the mumps. When I put on my shorts, my husband jumped back, terrified by what he described as that terrible bruising on your ankles. “Those are just veins,” I told him. He might not have heard me since I was boxing his ears at the same time.
I promise I’m not always this negative, but sometimes . . . I am. Sometimes I want to set fire to that meadow others are skipping through. The most important point I can make is . . . hey, hear that? Is that my car alarm?
Oh, yeah, menopause has also increased my ADD.