Peter de Seve, Thar She Blows (sketch) |
I am in idiot. Why couldn't I just leave well enough alone? Sure, there was that pregnancy scare because I hadn't had my period in 3 months, but why couldn't I just embrace the peri-menopause? Why did I have to seek out the OBGYN who put me on pills to regulate my wonky periods?
"Take one of these pills the 1st to the 15th of the month for the next three months."
"D'uh... Okay Doc."
I should have just cancelled the appointment. I mean sure, before the 3 month drought, when the appointment had been set, I was down to a 17 or a 15 or an 18 day cycle, but what if that 3 month drought was leading into actual cessation of bleeding? Did I just ruin it?
'Cause two days after I stopped taking the pill...
THAR SHE BLOWS!!!
Plus?!? UNDER THE CHIN ACNE. What the hell? For those three months, my crazy-ass, peri-menopasue acne had abated. Period comes back and I looked like a small pox victim. And MOODY?!? Great mother Gaia - the mood swings. David and Rissa exist in juxtaposed states of placation or self-preservation depending upon what emotion is wending its way through my body.
I now have to maintain strength of resolve on account of the frickin' food cravings. There was a tray of praline encrusted graham crackers at the office yesterday. Praline encrusted graham crackers should not be eaten by me. There was enough gluten and sugar in those tidbits to take down a water buffalo. After having eaten 4 of those suckers my already tenuous hold on civility was gone. I felt like shit and I felt guilty for having allowed myself to be seduced by the deadly plate. I needed to exercise and was a petulant and despondent lump. I had to walk. I didn't want to walk. I wanted to lie in bed and read erotica. But after dinner, I put one depressed foot in front of the other and I walked. And just the way Karen Walrond told me to in her Houston TEDx talk, I looked for the light. With the sun low in the sky I found myself on the boardwalk, breathing in the wildflowers, crouching down to pet a furry caterpillar and listening to the red-winged blackbirds. Clichéd, dorky, make-you-feel-good things. But you know what? They did. And by the time I returned home 45 minutes later I was no longer a peevish sheep and I still had enough time to lie in bed under the covers and read erotica. It was really win-win all around.
I love this...
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