Alright, I apologize in advance if this is too much information but I am perimenopausal and I really wish someone had warned me about all the hormonal fluctuations my body is currently going through.
I have heard of hot flashes, I had them when I was pregnant, so I thought I knew what to expect. No one warned me that later on it would feel like some one taking two hot bricks and trying to squeeze my brain out of the top of my head by smooshing the sides of my face together. I couldn’t imagine what was wrong with me.
My mother says, “It’s a hot flash.”
I reject it out of hand, “Hot flashes only happen to middle aged women.”
To which my mother replies, “You’re 45! How old are you planning to live? If you live to 90, guess what? You’re middle aged.”
Gasp! She’s right! I still threatened to put her into a retirement home if she ever says it again!
I decided to take a trip to the health food store and get some vitamens. It can’t hurt, right? The helpful lady at the store says to me, without my even asking, “At your age you need some hormonal support.” Excuse me?
So not only do I feel like my head is going to reach boiling point and pop off of my body, but apparently it is apparent to the naked eye that I am one hormone away from a literal melt down. Fabulous.
She takes me over to the counter where she retrieves a little jar and she whispers that this is the answer to all of my problems. How does she even know what all of my problems are? I look at her skeptically but I take the jar and look at it. It is an all natural progesterone cream.
She tells me her life changed when she went on it. Really? She asked her husband if he noticed a difference when she was on it. He said he noticed that she no longer cries when she watches commercials for telephone services. Now I start to sweat.
She asks me, “Do you cry a lot over things you see on TV?” I tell her I have cried twice today over Tim Russert’s death. She nods and pushes the cream towards me.
“You don’t understand,” I tell her, “I really liked Tim Russert.”
She nods with patience and sympathy. “My husband also says I don’t overreact to all the little things any more.” I can feel the sweat running off my head now.
I laugh, “Don’t tell my husband or he’ll tell me to stick my whole head in the jar.” I think this is hilarious. The woman just stares at me she is looking at me with open pity now.
I grab the information sheet, promise to do some research and I step quickly out of the shop and into the second half of my life. Maybe the feeling of heat and squeesing pressure on my head is some twisted metaphor for rebirthing into this second half. I don’t know, all I know is I’m ready for the labor to be over!