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Excuses, Excuses

Without being too TMI, my reproductive cycle is totally whacked this month. Basically, after having a week of regular menstruation (followed by a relatively long thirty-four day cycle), I had two super-short cycles resulting in a total of three menstrual periods this month.


Younger ladies, just you wait. Hitting your forties will be a blast.

Uh-huh. And my name is Queen Elsa.

So, I’ve been grumpy and mildly depressed the past three days. This morning, I woke up with an icky taste in my mouth. Wasn’t hungry at all, even by the time I’d fixed my smoothie by 6:45. I’m usually scarfing down almonds by five o’clock, I usually feel so famished (yes, we are early to bed, early to rise people). My stomach also felt off. Not queasy, but just off.

Then when I went to put my mid-morning snack smoothie in the cooler, I realized that I’d forgotten to change out the ice in the coolers* yesterday (all the ice was melted – if I’d changed it yesterday, only about half the ice would have been). This, after saying to myself early in the afternoon yesterday, “Oh, I haven’t changed the ice out. I’d better do that.”

Apparently, five seconds later I’d forgotten.

Grumpy mood. Weird digestive issues. Memory problems. And not too long after waking up, when I went to empty my bladder, I discovered I’d started my third period this month.

I put two and two together and told J that’s why I’d been feeling so grumpy. And that must be why my digestive system was on the fritz.

A little later I discovered the melted ice. “I blame that on hormones, too,” I told my husband.

And then I had an idea. “Until I hit menopause, I’m going to blame all my misbehavior and physical maladies on hormones,” I announced. “And then afterward, I’ll blame everything on old age.”

Matter settled. Nothing I do wrong, or any ill way I feel, will ever be my fault again.

WHEW! Is that freedom, or what?

Oh, I get it. No wonder so many people refuse to take responsibility for the consequences that follow their choices and actions. And most of them aren’t even perimenopausal women.

No problem is ever anybody’s fault. It’s their genes. Their dysfunctional family. The devil. God’s will. Fate. A black cat crossing their path.

Hormones. 😉

Later, ‘gator. I’ve got some ice in the coolers that needs changing…


*We do not have a refrigerator. Instead, we have three coolers and a large chest freezer.

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