Okay ladies I will be speaking freely and honestly in this post about the Menopause well actually the stage before………the Peri-menopause (to be fully meno you must be period free for 12 months).
Coming from an Irish family, silences are something we know nothing about. If we come across them we fill them. So I’m not going to start going all silent now because I’m peri-meno!
I will liken my peri-meno journey to drinking a bottle of wine just because I think it sounds like it should be bottled!
Me, well I’m already a few glasses in and working my way to getting totally bolloxed (fully menopausal).
THIS PERI-MENO MALARKEY
Let be honest, getting old is a bummer. I have to keep reminding myself I’m a mature woman, a woman with kids. But I struggle, as mentally I’ve only just turned 18.
If that wasn’t bad enough, I have this peri-meno malarkey thing going on. Watching helplessly as my body starts losing & gaining all at the same time (SEE HAIR LOSS vs CHIN HAIR GROWTH).
These days I spend more time tending my facial hair then I do the strands left on my head.
According to his nibs, my stubble is often the trigger he needs to remind him to shave. (See WARNING below).
With a new-found waist the shape of a ring buoy I put it down to middle age spread, the spread my family warned me about when I was young and slim and NOT down to my love of cakes.
You can imagine my delight when I googled ‘doughnut shape’ and found it belonged to the long list of peri-meno symptoms.
No more panic attacks worrying I might have to join the gym or worse still give up cakes!
Of course, not only am I doughnut shape, sometimes my stomach blows up like a balloon, and I permanently walk around holding it all in, bloody hard work.
Just for the record, I wouldn’t bother with those ‘super-duper’ costly hold it all in knickers, they don’t work.
This isn’t something new to me I’ve been forgetting things, usually important things all my life (see MISSED FLIGHTS HOME).
Yet ask me to sing you a TV advert from the 80s and I’m there, word perfect I haven’t forgotten a word.
One advert that came to mind as soon as I started writing this post was the Ready Brek advert.
Anyone not familiar with what Ready Brek is……it’s edible papier Mache. You will find it in the cereal aisles in all good supermarkets.
I bloody loved that advert (I was young!!) one bowl of Mache and you would trot off to school glowing from head to toe with heat. It was they said – central heating for kids.
No matter how much of that shite I ate I never glowed, I was gutted.
Fast forward 30+ years and I’m glowing alright, but I don’t bloody want to now.
HOT FLASH (not to be confused with FLUSH)
Nope, the reason my face suddenly lights up like the red arse of a horny baboon is because I’m having a ‘hot flash’.
There are no set patterns to these ‘flashes’ they come from nowhere and their timing is shit. Like when chairing a meeting, in a lift with strangers, talking to handsome men you know shit like that.
For anyone not familiar with what a ‘Hot Flash’ let me enlighten you:
- You face will suddenly without warning ‘flash’ baboon arse red for a minute or two even three if you overthink it.
- ‘Flashing’ has nothing to do with dirty old gits and overcoats.
- The heat will be equivalent to the inside of a furnace + 100 degrees.
- You will be unable to have a ‘flash’ without saying out loud ‘God I’ve gone all hot again’ even when no one is around.
- You will start pulling at your top to show others you are hot and are attempting to cool down along with blowing air out your mouth in an upwards direction.
Apart from a bit of boob sweat that occasionally accompanies the ‘flash’ I thank God, I don’t suffer with the additional waterfalls of sweat.
1% of women…basically my jammy mum, have already drunk the whole bottle of peri-meno without so much as a headache.
As if things weren’t bad enough, one of my aunts recently described how she would lay in bed at night while her whole body would tremble from head to toe. Believing she was getting Parkinson’s her relief was immense when it was all peri-meno related.
WARNING: FEELINGS OF DESIRE TO KILL OR MAIME YOUR HUSBAND ARE NORMAL.
If you ask his Nibs about me + mood swings he will say “she’s not aware of how bad she is, it’s like breathing it comes natural to her”.
It’s like a cloud of raging irritability that hovers over me raining down every time someone, namely his nibs does something really SMALL, so small it shouldn’t even bother me but it does, like breathe or talk at the wrong time.
Add in the sound of his nibs eating pork scratchings and I’m literally fit to kill. (See above WARNING).
Sometimes I feel guilty about the way I ‘give off’ but I actually can’t help it. Somtimes, when I’ve been really bad I even apologise.
And then there’s the sensitivity. I’ve always be sensitive (see DISBELIEVING KIDS) but I’ve got worse. My eyes drip almost as much as my bladder. It’s a real struggle just getting through an episode of Bake Off without being in bits when someone goes!
When I asked His nibs for what he thought was the biggest peri-meno difference for me he answered ‘your always tired’. (see EXCUSE).
Back to real tiredness and I don’t think I’m any more tired now than I have been for the last 16 years since becoming a mum and playing house.
I’d probably be even more tired if it wasn’t for his nibs being so hands on at home. I’m very fortunate there.
I imagine the tiredness is probably like a wave of heaviness setting over you until you can’t keep your eyes open any longer.
Happy to report that’s not hit me yet.
HELP….THERES SOMEONE IN THE HOUSE!
The first time I woke up in the dead of night for what I thought was absolutely no reason at all terrified me.
I lay motionless…..face burning real HOT, why the hell had I woken up, I NEVER wake up, there could be only two reasons either someone was in the house or I was about to experience something that would see me on the next episode of ‘A Haunting – it happened to me’.
Cooling my face down I eventually drifted back off to sleep. I only used to wake up occasionally but now its practically every night up to several times a night.
However, when I wake its not for long and I’m able to easily fall back to sleep. One sure thing is I wouldn’t be without my fan, no way can I go to bed now without having my fan on.
And I dream a lot more than I ever did, weird horrible dreams. More worryingly is I remember them in detail the next day and I have to try really hard not to Google what my dream meant just in case it predicts something bloody awful!
THE HIDDEN TENA IN MY TROLLEY
The need to visit toilets becomes more frequent. Don’t be fooled into thinking that just because you went before you left home you will be safe for a few hours, this is not always the case.
Once upon a time, before having kids I proudly had the bladder of a camel. I could carry a full load all day and not lose a drop even when in the midst of hysterical laughter.
Four kids later and the peri-meno to boot, let’s just say I’m not proud anymore.
I’ve switched from buying Always Night-time to buying Tena Ladies, hiding ‘my problem’ deep in the trolley (funnily enough spellcheck wanted to change Tenas to Tunas……..annoying, but I see the connection!).
Even the simplest of things like sneezing, laughing even walking can cause unwanted leakage.
THE VOICE OF REASON
Back in my school days I considered myself a good player. So good I stupidly believed I still had that same ability and agility.
Before I started my first match, I went along to watch the team at work and refresh myself on it all before signing up.
Naturally once I committed I insisted I needed proper netball trainers. His Nibs and his bloody voice of reason told me it was all a ‘waste of time you won’t keep it up” blah blah blah and how I should buy a cheap pair just to see how I got on.
I hate that voice of reason, it always butts in when you least want it. I didn’t want to hear sensible talk I wanted proper overpriced, netball trainers. I was in for the long haul. Why couldn’t he just believe in me.
I left the shop overpriced trainers in hand, I was good to go.
Me, Court 2, and a Goal Attack tabard and I literally had no friggin idea where to take up position court. Not a good start. Laughing off my mistake I stood there wondering what the hell I was doing.
In that moment the awful realisation wafted over me the player I once was had long gone. I literally ran around like a headless chicken avoiding the ball at all costs. It was bad. When I did catch the ball it was totally by accident, I didn’t want it and it showed, my feet were everywhere, and I threw it to the wrong side.
And seriously, how much running round a court can you do!!!
I never made it to the half time whistle I found myself feigning a knee injury just to get off the court and have a bloody rest. The added problem my Tena was proving unable to hold up.
Let’s just say my bladder proved as weak as my netball skills.
So you see, its been in all the news. I think it’s important we all talk about ‘the change’ why not its nothing to be ashamed of?
Why suffer in silence?
As for me well I’m not having people think I’m a right miserable old cow without attaching a bloody good reason to it!!
Anyway, anyone want to buy a pair of netball trainers, worn once all reasonable offers considered!