If you’ve read my blog at any length, you know I’m 47 and going through perimenopause. I don’t hide that fact. It justifies my irrationality, forgetfulness, and moodiness.
At my psychiatrist’s visit today, I informed her that my hormones and depression are on the same rollercoaster track. She called my “hormone doc” and arranged an appointment for me tomorrow. I love doctor-to-doctor appointment-making. I get in SO quickly.
I have been feeling old, fat, and ugly lately. Oh, wait, I AM fricking old, fat, and ugly. I can fix the fat and ugly, just not the old part. Since my foot (and tetanus shot site) is pretty well healed from my stepping on a rusty nail a couple of weeks ago, I can get back on the treadmill.
In spite of my self-esteem being in a dumpster, a man hit on me today. (Then I had a hot flash! No joke!) He was a restaurant manager at a nice place. He had a handsome face and clean appearance. He asked me questions about myself and told me about his interests. He arranged drink cup lids and Splenda packets while he kept me in conversation. It was flattering. It also boosted my crappy self-esteem.
I sat at my small table, laptop plugged into the wall, people everywhere, and I was flashing hot! Perspiring and red-faced, I kept my gaze down. Sweat puddled in the creases of my elbow bends, along the entire back of my neck and upper back, and face. Someone HAD to notice. I nonchalantly raised my tea glass to my overheated neck. Felt sooo good.
It passed. I then wondered if I smelled. Deoderant has NO respect for the hot flash. I use men’s gel sticks. No more Secret or other female-appropriate antiperspirants. Now I smell like a man’s spicy under arms! Yuck! Eh, beats the alternative, I guess.
So, I’m off to refill my iced tea – a squeeze of lemon, lots of ice, and a bit of sweetner.
Hopefully, I will stride slowly and not meet up with the friendly manager.