I'm Paula. I've got a dirty little secret. Something I haven't shared before. Something I'm utterly ashamed of. I must offload before I explode! It insidiously creeps up on you, catching you unaware and throws you off kilter. Okay... here we go.... deep breaths. I think I'm going through menopause. I'm in my late-forties and, though biologically possible, I'm nowhere near ready to lose who I am. Because that's what it does. I'm determined to fight, to wrestle every morsel of womanhood from the clutches of Mother Nature who, by the way, should be on MY side. Where's the Girl Code? I'm not ready. My body's still brimming with life. You should have seen me smashing the sambucas at our Amy's last Saturday. I Lambada-d better than any Brazilian. Even Pete commented on how supple I was, now that's a story for a different time! I mean, sure the aches and pains hit me, pain attacked my every nerve, but that's just what happens when we overdo it. I was itching to have fun, so I did. I've not recovered yet.
It's a monumental struggle, and nothing prepares you for it. Why don't they teach it? Why don't they give you a guidebook? How the hell do you navigate such murky waters? I'm sitting here in work, none of my colleagues know about it. I'd die of shame. Can people tell? Can they give you a quick once-over and realise you're 'on the change'? I'm certain Kelly and Tina have both been giving me some serious side-eye. I clocked them looking. Screw them and their perfect young bodies. Tina's pregnant and clearly flaunting it in my face.
It comes and goes and it's confusing the life out of me. If something's going to pop up to wreck my entire life and existence, at least do me the courtesy of sticking around for goodness sake. It's either in or out, this isn't the bloody Hokey Cokey. Right now, I can feel dribbles of sweat falling down my face. Vile. The office is air-conned to the hilt and I feel like I'm in the Sahara. How? It won't stop. I washed my hair this morning and trickles of sweat are coming out of my scalp. I touch my face and you could cook a whole fry-up on it. Embarrassing! I'm desperate to shrink into my leather seat which is not doing me any favours. I'm scared to get up, I'd leave half my skin on it. Oh no.
This entity has violated me. I thought something needed permission before it invaded your body. Is part of me dying? Have I lost myself, does the old me no longer exist? Have I shed my old life, like a slippery snake sheds its skin. I'm flat-out exhausted. All I do is fret about what's happening to me, I've never been so isolated. Who can I truly turn to? I'm just a silly woman. Correction, a silly old woman. A silly old drying-up woman whose skin is going to shit and feels like she's suffocated from all angles. A noose tightened around my wrinkled neck. What the hell am I going to do?
No comments:
Post a Comment