{ mocha's and menopause }

 

I am at my favorite coffee shop today just enjoying being out and being around people again. I was at the point where i was starting to get cabin fever and realized i was being sucked into yet another E! True Hollywood Story, i don’t care about the inner struggles of Bananarama (just sing “Venus” and be done with it). The problem with going out after you have had surgery is that you think everyone knows that you just had surgery and you get really paranoid. You think everyone is looking and that suddenly they have x-ray vision and can see your Frankenstein scars through your 22 layers. Whats even worse than you thinking that people know about your surgery is when you get pissed that people have no idea “why isn’t this old bat letting me go ahead of her it’s obvious i just had surgery and therefore deserve my latte’ first”

I am 29 and I recently had a full hysterectomy to say that this has been an adjustment is an understatement but I can handle the pain, the recovery, the all day marathons of Cops these things are a piece of cake compared to the monster which is surgical menopause. First off, saying you are going through menopause at 29 is the first thing you have to deal with, some people think you are joking and you can get some evil looks from older women who think you are mocking them. Secondly it is the amazing toll that it takes on your body phisically and mentally, especially surgical menopause, at least with regular menopause your body slowly eases you into it, not mine I woke up and my body literally yelled “what the hell happened one minute i’m asleep enjoying these wonderful drugs and the next thing there are hormones all over the damn place.” It must have been like waking up after a bad hangover and wondering who the hell you are waking up next to. “oh man I knew I shouldn’t of trusted that guy in the green scrubs. I mean what kind of guy just walks around with a gas mask and oxygen and he didn’t even buy me dinner. where the hell are my socks & oh crap I think I’m missing my uterus, Dammit!”

So even though I’m out amongst the living i still feel like the walking dead. Hot flashes really cement the belief that God was a dude. No woman would do this to her fellow species. I mean really what the hell does the uterus have to do with the central heating system of my body, I need a damn air conditioner installed in my bra. I am trying to enjoy my coffee (iced of course I do not want to melt in a Michelle puddle) and here it is my new friend, Hot Flash. Suddenly the room is like there a friggin erupting volcano in the middle of it and because of my Irish skin I get to be all flushed and look like a New England lobster bake. I look at the ice in my drink and really consider dumping in down my pants, ahhhhhh that would be sweet relief. Instead I stand outside in a huge gust of wind & rain and become the crazy lady of the coffee shop. This is my new reality menopause & mocha’s.