1. Hormonally-driven mood swings. If you think PMS is scary, wait until you have what feels like an out-of-body experience where you are watching yourself morph into Mommie Dearest holding a chainsaw and can't do anything to stop it. I've gone into rages that make Chef Gordon Ramsay look like Pollyanna and been unable to do anything but board the psycho train till the ride was over. It's a bad movie gone horribly wrong except you can't walk out or change the channel. Fits of anger are only the icing on the estrogen-flavored cake. Women going through perimenopause cry at the drop of a hat. That's right, so steer clear, have a box of tissues on hand, and gather more patience than you need in dealing with a toddler. And you thought people irritated the fuck out of me because I'm intolerant. Welcome to raging midlife hormones...the harshest mistress known to mankind.
2. Weight gain. Some of it is hormonal and much of it is feeling like you no longer give a shit as your body starts to turn on you. Being unable to control your emotions is bad enough, but when your body bloats at will and begins growing hair in very unwanted places...food seems like a fine place to turn for a little comfort. Of course, your ever-slowing metabolism doesn't help the situation, allowing the fat to attach itself to your inner thighs and stomach at lightning speed causing the wiggle in your walk to be less than attractive. This milkshake is bringing other fatties to the yard...in search of ice cream and other full-fat dairy treats.
3. Forgetfulness and fog brain. I used to have a photographic memory, school was a breeze and memorizing lines for plays took all of a single read-through. I was organized and meticulous with paperwork, dates, numbers, and details. Ask me now where I left my glasses, parked the car, or if I bought peanut butter and I'll not have a fucking clue. Aligning my thoughts and formulating clear responses to daily life activities have become some of the greatest challenges I face. They say this will pass and right after menopause women experience greater clarity...I'll believe it when it happens to me. Until then, I'll just try to function in the real world as Ten Second Tom for a bit longer.
4. The Blood Flood: Aside from having uterine residents, otherwise known as fibroids, perimenopause has transformed my former "like clockwork" period, which used to last three days and require slender regular tampons or a panty liner into something that resembles a crime scene on Dexter and lasts for up to 11 days. Have I mentioned it can come back? Not in 28-33 days...nope, this bitch can return every two weeks when she feels like it. One summer I had my period for almost two fucking months. I used to skip the summers. The frequency is enough to drive the sane stark raving mad, I can attest to that. But what really gets me is having to use ultra tampons and pads meant for people with urinary incontinence, or as my friends and I refer to them, "pee pee pads" in order to function during the day or sleep through the night. You don't know flooding until you have felt something pouring out of your body like a faucet on high and accompanied by giant, livery chunks of uterine matter. Thank you, perimenopause for turning a normal monthly bodily function into a fucking nightmare.
5. HOT FLASHES. 'Nuff said.
6. It can last up to ten years. Yes, you read correctly, up to TEN FUCKING YEARS. That's longer than some marriages. I can't commit to a goddamn phone for that long...having recently dumped my six year love affair with the iPhone and switching over to a Samsung Galaxy S4...and I LOVED my iPhone. Why the hell would I want this shit in my life for a decade? Does Mother Nature think I enjoy being hormonally bipolar? Maybe she believes that ignorance is bliss so the forgetfulness is actually a blessing in disguise? Or perhaps she is a cruel bitch who wants me to suffer for the sins of other women who don't live up to her standard? I do not want to have to pay for the cuntiness of the rest of the gold digging, phony, nasty, slutty, trashy pieces of shit in the world. Yet, here I am, the poster child for perimenopause, sneering right back at her...alternately screaming and crying because, hell, I can't get my shit together anymore.
Ladies, realize that you will be hit by this shitstorm one day, it's unavoidable. Don't try to run, and don't bother hiding. It will find you. My suggestion to you is start stocking up on wine, chocolate, yoga pants, sticky notes, tampons, Xanax, and Kleenex. Warn your family now. Forewarned is forearmed. Men, all I can say is thank your lucky stars all that will happen to you is low-hanging dog balls and extra ear hair. As for the fact that you have to live with us during this especially exciting decade, consider it payment for all the crap we've dealt with over the years..two words: Dutch Oven. Be grateful that murder holds such a stiff penalty because we are always a hair's breath away from committing heinous acts of malice...then crying about it and forgetting it ever happened in a few minutes. Do I want pity? Hell no! I am woman, hear me roar! Are you friggin kidding me right now???
This bitch is still alive and kicking...for an update, have a look at Why Perimenopause Still Sucks Moldy Balls...Four Years Later
For answers to men's questions about perimenopause:
Smart Answers to Dumb Questions About Perimenopause
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