On my Facebook page last week, I mentioned that I wear baby doll pajamas to bed. Even in the dead of winter. That’s because if I don’t, I run the risk of death by drowning.
When I got my first night sweat, I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I thought maybe I had a bad nightmare. I was drenched. Like someone doused me with salt water. I actually had a puddle right where my boobs meet. My head was as wet as if I just came out of the shower. And the sheet under me? It was more like a Slip ‘N Slide.
I was relieved to discover that this didn’t happen very often. Just once in a while. I could totally handle it. That was about 3 years ago. Recently, it has decided to kick itself up a notch. Including the hot flashes. You know the ones. Where you swear someone lit a match to your insides and started a bon fire? Yeah. Those. And in the last 3 weeks my night sweats have produced enough water to create a small sea.
I was told that I was in peri-menopause. Peri-menopause? What the hell? I can’t be going through that already. I’m only thirt — oh — 46. And I’m not sure who told me. Was it my doctor? A friend? My mother? I don’t know. Because one of the other symptoms of peri-menopause is…ummm. Hmm. That’s funny, I don’t remember.
Even if you just started hanging around me, you quickly get the idea that I’m freaked out by the whole aging process. The changes to my body is completely throwing me for a loop. I mean, I don’t mind being in my forties. I feel like I’m all mature and stuff. Mature. Something I’ve been trying to achieve since 1987. But really. Can’t the Age Fairy just leave my body alone? What did I ever do to her?
So, Age Fairy. You are a meany. Here’s what I say to you: this old age may cause me rage but sweat and mood swings will never hurt me. Nanny-nanny boo-boo.