“M” is for the million ways my husband finds to bug me,
“E” means estrogen deficient, armed and dangerous,
“N” is for night sweats, hot and cold flashes, and all around lack of climate control,
“O” means I’m growing ridiculously old,
“P” is for pauses my brain takes. (There’s no evidence to support this, but I think these pauses are directly correlated to turning on a burner on my stove cooktop.)
“A” is for a strange attraction to short, toothless Southern men,
“U” is for the unibrow now growing on my upper lip,
“S” is for the sudden tears I shed over just about anything at all, including beautiful people I’m supposed to admire, but actually don’t give a hoot about like Brangelina,
“E” is for the eating that never stops. Now for the chorus — that brings us back to the last stanza sudden tears again to combat the bloat,
Put them all together, they spell 
MENO’PAUSE, a word that means “pause from men” (along with a few other definitions I can’t put in this family friendly blog).
I heard horror stories — the takeover of your body by seven diabolical dwarfs — itchy, witchy, sweaty, drippy, cranky, bloated, and forgetful.
My cousins Toni and Beni accompanied me on my last Vegas trip to the play Menopause the Musical®. Since both of their names ended in an “i,” I knew it would be fun. Commiserating with a whole room full of hormonally challenged women was the most fun I’ve had since being in a room with four wayward teenagers. (Actually three. There was always one good enough one that kept hope alive for the other three, but never the same teen on consecutive days.)
After the play, Toni and I were chatting and not watching where we were going. (That incidentally has nothing to do with menopause.) We accidentally walked into the men’s restroom. So much for our “pause from men.”
After I arrived back in California, Toni called my husband and told him that the security cameras had captured our pictures. Apparently the casino mounted the photograph over the men’s restroom overlaid with a no smoking circle and slash. We were famous.
Ha, ha. Gotcha. We are not famous!
Related posts:
- You won’t believe it
- Crash diet
- What they don’t tell you about growing old
- I am so sore
- Purple crayons
Print This Post
“Since both of their names ended in an “i,” I knew it would be fun.” Hee!
I had an endometrial ablation a few years ago (TMI?) and stopped having periods. Bliss. I don’t have any of these symptoms . . . yet, although I have been known to cry over a misplaced fork and eat twice my weight in donuts.
Too Cool! Very clever Penny. A lot of women (and men) should read this! Keep up the great postings : )