Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Frankenovaries strike again...


There are sooooooo many things to enjoy about peri-menopause - it's hard to pick a favourite.  But pretty high on that list would be how my peri-menopausal ovaries take over my higher brain functions when in the presence of young men.  My lady bits are apparently so desperate for that last stab at sure-fire insemination, that the most innocent of contact with a man in his prime, say between the ages of 19-22, will bring on L.U.S.T.  All-encompassing - choke you with its power - LUST.  

The good thing is, by and large, I'm not around young men most of the time. David's 40;  most of our friends are between the ages of 30 and 55.   I'm pretty sure that's what's kept me from getting arrested.  "Ma'am, put the boy down.  Put him down NOW."  Problem is? If this menopause thing doesn't happen in the next 5 years... Rissa will then be 18 1/2, and more than likely, she'll be bringing male friends home who will then be in that dreaded YOUNG MAN age bracket.  And no matter what your average cougar tries to tell you?  It is NEVER cool to hit on your daughter's friends.  NEVER.

I'm scared.  'Cause right now, when confronted with a young man full of youthful testosterone (the essence of stalwart sperm as it were), I pretty much lose my mind.  My failing ovaries do the Frankenstein walk.   

"Sperm.  Must have sperm."   

WAIT!!  Maybe my ovaries are actually ZOMBIE ovaries!  That is probably closer to the truth.  Maybe they've just come back to life and they are hungering for that young sperm because way back then, that's what they were supposed to be on the hunt for!  Somewhere in their little poor little zombie ovary brains they think  recognize virility and they want it.  The final gasp before the shop shuts down and puts the CLOSED FOR BUSINESS sign in the window.

And I mean, sure, I like sex... who doesn't? It's a lot of fun.  But until peri-menopause hit, it wasn't my every waking thought.  It was on the back burner and then right before my period, David would know that something was on the horizon because I was doing my best impersonation of a sailor on shore leave.  He actually said to me at one point, "Honey, I'm feeling a bit like I'm just the man attached to the penis."  I'm chagrined to say that, at that time, he probably was.  There were several years where those ovaries were convinced they needed attention - and a lot of it.  Lately, though, I though that it was all easing up, that the girls had calmed down.  I was wrong.

So this is basically a warning to all the young bucks out there.  Give me and my voracious ovaries a wide berth.  Don't come too close or you may be sucked into our orbit and who knows when, or even if, you'll escape.  I'd say we're like a black hole, but I'm a redhead... (ba-doom-ching) You get the gist, right?  Keep your distance.  It's for your own safety.  Just sayin'.

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