Between the untimely crying, and occasional forced laughing—often mingled with more crying—everyone can see that I take center stage. I wear a double-sided painted face—a smile and a frown. I am the main attraction!
And nobody says anything to me, no sir-ree; I think they wouldn’t dare—my being menopausal and all. But if they could, they’d surely have plenty to say, and with good reason. No-one knows from one freakin’ minute to the next what mood I’ll be in or just who to expect to see: Me or the Banshee. Why…even I never know what mood I’ll find me in, or to what side of the bed I’ll wake up on.
Seriously, if I could, I’d run from me!
The fact that I am up one moment, smiling, laughing, joking, and then just unpleasant the next means that I am menopausal! It is just the new ME being my usual unpleasant menopausal self. I cry at the-drop-of-a-hat or throw little hissy-fits. Unreasonably, I may cry because my cake didn’t rise, my dinner was less than satisfactory (always, of course, in my professional opinion), or I dropped an egg on the floor. And, silly me, I’ll cry because a little ol’ fly snuck in and is therefore roaming my house?! I mean, get real! And just like Wimpy, I’d probably cry if I didn’t get my hamburger today!
But the worst reason for crying these days, that my pant’s zipper won’t zip or I can’t button closed a blouse or jacket—because I’ve been steadily gaining weight since becoming menopausal.
So where to go shopping for clothes now? For grins, try Oswald the Tent Maker; that is if I can even find such a place!
We dream a life to be; we live to dream that life! (vka)