At thirty-eight, I accept that I am no longer the hot babe of my youth. Two kids (c-sections) and a seemingly pathological aversion to sweating...who am I kidding here. I store fat like a camel stores water and I'm fairly certain that spare tire around my middle could double as a flotation device if my plane ever goes down.
My ass is dragging; my boobs are sagging; I have bat wings for triceps; and a whole flock of freakin' crows have come to roost on my face. But wait, it just keeps gettin' better and better! Or so I'm told. They lie, you know.
Our house is now so cold it could double as a meat packing plant. DH and the children peer at me pitiously from under quilts where they sit wrapped up like human burritos...or maybe they've frozen with their eyes open. I pour enough sweat to fill a swimming pool...every. damn. day. You've heard of flash floods...well, I'm experiencing flash heat waves. And while I dearly love my family and enjoy the company of friends, more often than not I find I could chew off someone's face and not experience an ounce of remorse. You think I'm lying.
Before anyone approaches me, I feel compelled to channel my inner Dirty Harry by saying:
You have to ask yourself one question..do I feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?
Trust me, you don't want me to make your day.
Medical personnel are convinced I'm entirely too young for perimenopause, but what do THEY know? They're MEN! I've lived in this body longer than most of them have been witch doctors so I think I have a better clue than the dudes.
Which begs the question: if it's MENopause, how come men don't go through it? Personally speaking, I've paid my dues by having the morning-noon-and-night sickness and morphing into a human road map composed of stretch marks.
Don't tell me to check my thyroid...I already did and it's workin' just fine, thanks.
To top it all off (yes, it gets even better!) I'm soon to be the proud owner of a new pair of....no, not boobs although I wouldn't turn 'em down. Bifocals! Oh, the rapture!! I'm told I'm entering a New Exciting Phase Of Life, but frankly I can think of waaay more exciting experiences...like root canals or foot fungus.
This shit is for the birds. Or better yet, the men, 'cause they whine anyway.
I briefly entertained the notion of naming this post This Shit Sucks but figured I at least needed to lure you into the post itself before totally offending you. I harbor hope that my faithful followers are made of sterner stuff and will stick with me :)
My ass is dragging; my boobs are sagging; I have bat wings for triceps; and a whole flock of freakin' crows have come to roost on my face. But wait, it just keeps gettin' better and better! Or so I'm told. They lie, you know.
Our house is now so cold it could double as a meat packing plant. DH and the children peer at me pitiously from under quilts where they sit wrapped up like human burritos...or maybe they've frozen with their eyes open. I pour enough sweat to fill a swimming pool...every. damn. day. You've heard of flash floods...well, I'm experiencing flash heat waves. And while I dearly love my family and enjoy the company of friends, more often than not I find I could chew off someone's face and not experience an ounce of remorse. You think I'm lying.
Before anyone approaches me, I feel compelled to channel my inner Dirty Harry by saying:
You have to ask yourself one question..do I feel lucky? Well, do ya punk?
Trust me, you don't want me to make your day.
Medical personnel are convinced I'm entirely too young for perimenopause, but what do THEY know? They're MEN! I've lived in this body longer than most of them have been
Which begs the question: if it's MENopause, how come men don't go through it? Personally speaking, I've paid my dues by having the morning-noon-and-night sickness and morphing into a human road map composed of stretch marks.
Don't tell me to check my thyroid...I already did and it's workin' just fine, thanks.
To top it all off (yes, it gets even better!) I'm soon to be the proud owner of a new pair of....no, not boobs although I wouldn't turn 'em down. Bifocals! Oh, the rapture!! I'm told I'm entering a New Exciting Phase Of Life, but frankly I can think of waaay more exciting experiences...like root canals or foot fungus.
This shit is for the birds. Or better yet, the men, 'cause they whine anyway.
I briefly entertained the notion of naming this post This Shit Sucks but figured I at least needed to lure you into the post itself before totally offending you. I harbor hope that my faithful followers are made of sterner stuff and will stick with me :)
