Perimenopause Still Sucks Moldy Balls, Four Years Later

Ladies, I never promised you a rose garden. Here we are, four years after my doctor told me that my hormone levels were, on a scale of one to ten, somewhere around dust. Those words were, at the time, music to my ears since I was long since done having children and bleeding like a stuck pig every fucking month. The excitement was off the charts! Then, oh then, I found out that it could last something like ten years. Ten goddamn years. What the holy mother of the baby Jesus are you talking about? I have to do this for how long? Who has the time or the patience? Certainly not I! But, with an end in sight, I took up my cross and plodded forward. It can't and it won't go on forever. I can do this. Right? Bless me with all that is holy and good, I've considered digging into my own vagina with a long tool and yanking my uterus out violently and with great malice. Whether it be common sense, a fear of actually killing myself accidentally, or not being in possession of said tool, I haven't done it...yet. Fast forward to today. All those symptoms I've described to you, still in full annoying as all fuck force and now being joined by new ones. In case you've forgotten them considering the mental fog we are all walking around in...Why Perimenopause Sucks Moldy Balls should remind you.

Feeling bone tired no matter how much I sleep. Can I get a show of hands if you are drinking way more coffee than you ever have in your entire life? I can't be the only one who is feeling like her ass is dragging the floor every day. The absolute worst time is in the morning. That alarm goes off and I'd swear there are tears in my eyes. The first thing I do, after peeing, is stumble downstairs and turn on the coffee maker. Why? Because I need coffee to take a shower. Pathetic, yes. But it's my reality and I've learned to deal with it...using copious amounts of very strong coffee. The exhaustion, for me, leads to a lack of motivation to do basic things. Cleaning the house has become a feat that feels like I'm plowing the fields, barefoot, using my hands. Something that used to only require pumping up some righteous tunes, grabbing those paper towels and Mrs. Meyers spray. Today, I have to psych myself up like a prize fighter getting ready for a bout. I sure would love to have half of my energy back. Perimenopause, you harsh mistress, give it back!

Night sweats. Like sleeping hot flashes with a hose turned on your entire upper body. Nothing says good night's sleep like waking up from it soaked and needing to change your shirt and pillowcase. Luckily, these don't come all too frequently. When they do, I feel like I'm on fire and it jars me awake because my drenched hair is dripping on my face and neck. Because I'm not tired enough without the joys of interrupted sleep. I know I'm giving off fierce heat in those moments because even the cats can't come near me and they will sleep on me in the dead heat of summer. Don't for a minute think that the hot flashes have stopped. They are still a large part of my life. I often find myself asking someone at work if it's really friggin hot and did our landlords turn on the heat, only to hear, "It's not hot at all, it's actually kind of cold." Cold my ass. Why am I holding my hair up and fanning my neck like my life depends on it? Why do my cheeks feel like I've spiked a massive fever? Oh, right. The evil otherwise known as perimenopause.

Thinning hair. My hair used to be so thick, I'd break pony tail holders trying to put my hair up. Now, I feel like I've regressed and my hair is more like that of a toddler. Okay, maybe not THAT thin, but certainly thin enough to be held tightly between a circle made by my pointer finger and thumb. What the hell? Do we not suffer enough as women? Can't we keep our crowning glory well into our forties? Why do we have to have something so basic stripped from us while we are in our prime? Can't be a balding cougar, now can we? Not that I am suggesting that is the only reason to have nice hair. How about the fact that most of us work and need to be seen in public on a regular basis. How about the fact that our hair makes us look youthful and pretty? How about the plain and simple fact that a woman going bald is probably more unattractive than a bag of assholes? Men can rock a chrome dome, we cannot. We are not made that way. We wear makeup, we use hair products. You need hair for that!!! Baby Jesus, leave my hair out of this "natural, beautiful" process.

This one is a doozy and if you can't handle the truth, stop reading here. The cough pee. Yes, you read that right. Peeing when you cough. This didn't occur after childbirth so don't go all Kegel Nazi on me. I gave birth almost 20 years ago at the youthful age of 24. My bladder and pelvic floor weren't affected at all back then. But do explain to me why, at 44, my muscles aren't doing their job now. If you see me crossing my legs...chances are, the next thing I am about to do is cough. Since I've been coughing since Christmas, this is a regular occurrence. I guess my thighs are getting a workout, but REALLY?!?! Why is this even necessary? I cough like a barking seal, is that not embarrassing enough? Clearly not. If I'm home, I'll run up the stairs and sit on the toilet to cough. That's hot. Talk about a sexy MILF. 'Scuse me while I cough in the can. I know, you want some of that.

How about we keep on the path of the gross and unmentionable and talk about the spotting? I don't mean just your run of the mill between period spotting, because that is a given during perimenopause. I'm talking about the spotting after any sexual activity. Oh yes, I went there. Orgasms lead to uterine contractions for those of you ignorant of basic human anatomy. And since your uterus has gone over to the dark side at this point, it chooses to ruin your fun by spewing out a little bit of liquidy off color happiness. That's really the epitome of desirable right there. Not to say it happens every time. But enough to make you second guess your need for sexy time. Do I want to chance staining the sheets? I just changed them. UGH. Can we just jump to the end and directly into menopause? Is there a rule that we have to go through the prelude instead of skipping over this shit? I don't need to follow a straight line. When do I ever?

One day, this will all be a distant memory. One day, I will look back on all this and laugh. Truthfully, I laugh about it now. Ahora en este momento as one of my closest friends likes to say. How can you not laugh at this shit? The symptoms may suck rancid donkey dong, but ladies, I ask you...don't you find it all funny as fuck? Only women go through all this which says what? It says that we are the stronger sex. Not only do we go through PMS, periods for decades, pregnancy, and childbirth, but we forge through this nightmare and come out on the other end as pretty fucking amazing women. Our bodies can take it all. Fucking incredible when you think about it. Recall the stupid joke about not trusting anyone who bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die? How about us? We basically hemorrhage for 9-15 days and not only don't we die, but we go to work, care for families, run households, and lead completely normal lives. We're superheroes! Are you friggin kidding me right now???


For answers to men's questions:
Smart Answers to Dumb Questions About Perimenopause