Have you seen that commercial that says "for the generation that swore it'd never get old...well it hasn't!"? What a load of %#%%^&^$! Did you actually see that guy with the surfboard, who says "never trust anyone over 90"? Is he really supposed to be, what....60? C'mon, I know a 40 year old tri-athlete when I see one.
I, on the other hand, believe me and my 8 remaining eggs are torpedoing towards menopause at breakneck speed. (for all you men that felt you might be interested in a thread that is titled 'for women only', this might be a good time to excuse yourselves...isn't there a surfboard waiting for you, somewhere?)
I am 46, and while my hair believes it's 82 (anyone who goes grey at the tender age of 26 must have some old lady's hair, yes) I feel and act like I'm at least 15 years younger. My ovaries, on the other hand, are already searching the want ads for quiet porches with white, wooden rocking chairs. I always enjoyed a nice, reliable cycle. If I was late, I was pregnant. It doesn't get any easire than that. Now...I have calendars with circles and calendars with triangles. The circles are when I got 'it' the previous month. The triangle is when 'it' actually knocked. It's been some time since a circle and a triangle actually met. March had two circles and one triangle. April had no circles and no triangles, and it feels really bad about that. May, while 27 days in has no circles or triangles to speak of, either, I'm a firm believer in 'it ain't over till the fat lady sings'. I just think those 8 remaining eggs of mine forgot the words to any songs other than auld lang syne.
And what's with the pimples??
I got the typical teenager bouts of zits (godhowihatethatword), purchased stock in the clearasil company, and figured I'd grow out of it. I gotta tell you, if I have to suffer the indignity of one more pimple, I sure as rain better not ever get a wrinkle. As far as I'm concerned, I should be able to tan to my hearts content. I've got a complexion that is, apparently, 2/3 olive oil. No, I'd better not ever wrinkle.
And my feet are always hot. All night long, I have to hang them out of the bed, hoping some errant breeze will twist about them, cooling off the rest of my body. And the nape of my neck tends to get damp during the night. What's with that???? It's as though someone has put a cool compress to the back of my neck, only the compress is invisible and the water I feel actually seeped out.
So, now I'm reading WebMD, getting all sorts of fun filled facts regarding periomenopause. What a name. Perio. Reminds me of where they cut me when I pushed those two kids out, about a hundred years and 3000 eggs ago. First, you hear the doctor say 'you're going to feel some pressure'...when he reallly means 'this is going to hurt a he!! of a lot, but it will help the watermelon pass'. More or less, my kids have moved out. (my daughter visits when she has multiple days off from work and just sleeps and eats when she's here. my son, who sorta still lives here, is in love, and I'm pretty much invisible to them) I'm enjoying the empty nest, wish they'd both just clean out their rooms so I can sell this place. My ovaries, it seems, are all in an uproar about their empty nest. C'mon ladies, I say...push those babies out. Get it over with already.
Remember when Edith Bunker was going through 'the change'? Archie was at wit's end trying to be nice to her, but it was killing him. Finally, he'd had enough, and insisted that if she was going to have a change of life, she had exactly 5 minutes to do it in. C'mon Edith, he said, change!
Perio, indeed....my feet are hot.