My hormones are wonky. Not in a cute, “Aw, she tears up at the idea of baby bunnies” way, but in a “Settle down shrew. I AM NOT breathing too loud, I’m just… breathing! Jesus.” sort of way. Apparently a few days a month Lisa leaves the building and a satanic, salt sucking, chocolate guzzlin’ troll takes her place. Last night for example, I was having a pleasant discussion with my spouse. One minute we were two adults chatting, laughing even—the next, the poor man said something I didn’t agree with so I spun on my heel and whipped opened the cupboard and grabbed a package of chocolate chips. I shoved a mittful into my mouth and fumed until I was ready to continue the conversion. What hell is this? If this is perimenopause, what is full-blown menopause going to be like? I am sincerely concerned. I’ve had this discussion with hordes of girlfriends and we’re all on the same page. Collectively we’re a happy, gregarious group who upon occasion and somewhat dependent upon the tides, can suddenly transform into something else—something dark and startlingly emotional. Add in a dose of insomnia (also associated with whacky hormones) and resulting sleep[…]
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Awesome!