Hubby and Me and Menopause Makes Three…Crowded!

I have no doubt that my husband—like most men—didn’t dream that his sweet-natured bride, oh-so pretty and in the greatest shape of her young life, would in the future morph before his very eyes. From one disappointing personality change—Mothra VS Godzilla in action—to gaining a whopping 100-pounds—like watching Dr. Bruce Banner morphing into the Hulk with an eating disorder. Time to wake-up and smell the roses; that was yesterday; this is today; it’s all downhill from here. But my hubby would never complain; he’s much too Mr. Rogers for that.

When I was young, flying high, in-love with life, and menopause free, I gave a hoot what I was seen wearing in public. My pants were perfectly creased and wrinkle-free, my hair not a strand out of place, and my makeup was smudge-less and outlined to perfection—like one of Leonardo da Vinci’s perfect paintings!

I was the epitome of conceit. And contrary to popular belief, one does not need to be beautiful to be conceited, only believe that you are (as I did), and then walk the talk. Guaranteed that heads will turn and envy is aroused. I should practice what I preach? Nah, ‘don’t feel like it!

Now my life is spent as a quiet menopausal home-body.

Depending on my night’s ability to sleep and really rest—if I didn’t fight all night with the cold and hot flashes (blanket off, blanket on, fan off, fan on), and having to run to the bathroom every two hours—I’ll jump out of bed, have my coffee, and ready myself for a session of weight training and step aerobics. Or, if it is a beautiful sunny day, I’ll head outside for a brisk 40-45 minutes hiking to benefit from the fresh air. Too, my eating habits are in their best behavior—I’ll have my salad with fish or poultry, and my sugar-free Jell-O with light whipped cream.

A night with no rest means my day is a shot in the dark—an unpredictable moody zombie walking aimless. On a day like this, I moan and cry and complain; I don’t change out of my pajamas, I don’t brush my hair, don’t brush my teeth, and though I don’t ever binge, I’ll then eat what I want. That means no diet. I’ll make pasta or rice or potatoes and eat to console me. Sigh!

Life was so much easier to deal with when I wasn’t menopausal. Now it is more like two is company and three is a crowd! Lord, help me…

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