Here I am again. My hair is not washed and I'm not wearing underwear, but then it's not noon yet either so shut up.
If you must know, I have already made coffee, muffins and omelettes. I have checked my email, Facebook, Google Reader and Twitter and I've read a little about Chinese medicine from a real book. I am way more productive now than I used to be when I had a legitimate job. Yes, I may be illegitimate now, butI'm not lazy - is my point if I felt I needed one which I clearly do not.
I'm just sitting here waiting for menopause to happen. Really happen.
You see, from what I've read on the subject, there is this period of time which is different for all women, they say - which means "they" just don't have any clue about this subject at all because everything about women is mysterious and slightly scary - that is called perimenopause, you know, like periwinkle, only it's not pretty, doesn't smell nice and it doesn't make you think of Spring and first love.
Anyway, like I said, no one knows much about this mysterious perimenopause because even spellcheck, which sounds its alarm every time I type the word, informs me that "no guesses are found." Yeah, that about sums it up.
So let's call it what it is. A myth.
The myth suggests that perimenopause is the time directly leading up to menopause in which symptoms present themselves. The symptoms are many and varied and I suspect some are made up as we go along, which is ok because god love the poor women who have to suffer through this crap - if they need to add an additional symptom now and then like maybe insatiability for long naps on a tropic beach after many rummy drinks served in coconuts - then may the saints be with them. And me. So, where were we? Yes, perimenopause.
Women are not considered truly menopausal until one full year has gone by without menstruation. So up until then (how much time is not known because of the whole varying scary women thing) women are considered peri. Peri as in short for peril.
I'm not going to bore you with the details but let's just sum it up by saying for quite a few years in your mid-late 40's- early 50's you are a mess. Oh, not all the time, but a lot of the time. Most of the messy times come when you have an important engagement, you have house guests who invited themselves using Facebookocity, you try to join a knitting group in your new hometown, etc. That's when the cryin' begins. Literally.
And even if you aren't the type to fall for anything labeled alternative, you will find yourself rubbing every inch of your body with Wild Yam cream or going to a acupuncturist young enough to by your son to explain your girly problems, dancing wildly with some indigenous tribe while chants and incantations are expertly sung/recited by shamans, giving up meat/adopting the caveman diet/eating everything raw/eating everything that doesn't move fast enough to get away or reading a bunch of Suzanne Somers books.
So, having done all that with varying degrees of success, I am now taking my recent vow of Apathy just a step further to include this whole meno thing and my new motto is Fuck Menopause.
I will take away its power by alternately embracing it and ignoring it. It is what it is, I am what I am, so put that spinach in your pipe and smoke it.
And I think, my friends, The Fuck Menopause Method is working!
Why just this month
1. I have perfected my "dagger eye stare" to the point that strangers on the street feel the sting and cross streets to avoid me.
2. I haven't finished one project without starting at least 3 others, none of which I finished and then decided that
3. While basically a quitter by nature, I would take quitting to a new level - by refusing to start anything.
4. I discarded all sweaters that cannot be ripped wildly from my body in the first three seconds of a hot flash. I unpacked the summer clothes, giving them permanent spots in the closet and say things like "it's never too cold for halter tops" regularly and repeatedly.
5. I stopped trying unsuccessfully to sleep at night and instead watch sad movies, eat potato chips dipped in ice cream and cry.
6. I discovered that "menopause brain" is an excellent indisputable excuse. "Oh, sorry. I forgot all about your paint-it-yourself-sweat-shirt party. Menopause brain!!" (finish with a goofy smile, rolly eyes and a finger pointed towards your slightly tipped head.)
It's the Just Say No of the Hormonal Kind.
And as we all know by the time we reach menopause, it's actually way easier to say no.