You may have noticed I’ve been on hiatus for the past 6 weeks. That’s what I’m calling it, anyway. You might call it “bitch be too lazy to write on her own stupid blog.” Hell, I’m 50 now and I’ll call it whatever I like. My 50th birthday party was the bomb, naturally. It ended up being too cold to wear the second dress I purchased for the event, so I made a last minute switch. Fortunately, my closest is copious and I pulled out a dynamite purple neoprene number that zipped all the way up the front. It was a big hit.
So what have I been doing for the past 6 weeks? Going through menopause. Pretty much right on schedule it would appear. Technically, the official diagnosis of menopause only comes after a year of no periods. But I went in for a hormone test on Friday, after I quit taking the pill 5 weeks ago and came back with a score of 98 (under 10 is considered fertile). So I’m going to officially announce that my ovaries have failed. Should I be happy? Mournful? I opted for champagne. (No, seriously, we split a bottle of Krug on Friday night)
I could really do without the hot flashes. Waking up every hour or two and having to through off the covers is getting to be a bit of a drag. At first I only had them at night. Now they are starting to creep into my waking hours as well. I’m usually cold, so now I get to alternate – sweatshirt on, sweatshirt off. My husband finds it amusing. I’m just grateful I haven’t developed any other symptoms yet. Hormonally induced tears and/or rage, anyone? No, thanks. Of course, if I do get exceptionally bitchy, I now have an excuse. Like I needed one.