Menopause… You cruel, cruel bitch

I’m literally squeezing an ice pack under each arm pit as I write this because my body is on fire. OK, not literally on fire, but… Hey, is it hot in here or is it just me?

Is it hot in here? Is anyone else hot? Did someone turn off the AC? These are all questions I find myself asking my husband and kids lately. Their eye-rolling is already in full force and this shit’s just getting started. Buckle up, kids!

Having to go through “the change” is enough punishment. The fact that it kicked in at the start of summer is some major poetic injustice. Mother Nature is fucking with me!

In my 20s, I listened to my mom complain about hot flashes and thought, “What’s the big deal,” never realizing (or not caring) that this would someday be me.


“So you’re hot,” I’d think to myself. “Eat ice. Think cool. Problem solved.” If someone were to say that to me now, I’d use my hot, sweaty arm pits to choke-hold their sorry ass and then literally bite their head off.

Now that I’m in it – and I mean really fucking in it – PROBLEM NOT SOLVED!

Let’s take a look at my symptoms:

  • Hot flashes
  • Bad eyesight
  • Poor memory
  • Hot flashes

The hot flashes alone are bad enough, trust me. But once an episode is over, my body temperature goes in the opposite direction. An all-out body-shivering, teeth chattering frenzy ensues because I’m suddenly hit with the chills.

And then another hot flash hits…


Yesterday, my hot flashes were so bad I stood outside in the torrential, Florida rain for 5-10 minutes because I knew that walking back into an air conditioned house would feel sooooooooooooooo fucking good! And it did.

While I’m forgetting everything these days, I can’t forget to mention the memory loss or the “squirrel syndrome” that is, quite frankly, making me feel dumber than shit. It’s taken me days to write this one blog entry!

Two days ago, I thought I had been making great progress on this blog only to find that I had typed the monologue to the Will & Grace rerun on TV.  God forbid my husband walks in to talk to me or ask me a question. I might as well shut the laptop and call it a day.

Look, I know the symptoms could be much worse. I don’t have insomnia, mood swings and I’m not all emo or temperamental. Let’s just disregard the fact that I’m Latina and, well, perhaps I should come with some sort of warning label. (Btw… Hey Donald Trump… ¡Chinga tu madre, cabron!)

As for “medical” remedies, I’m still doing the research and I don’t see my “lady doctor” until next week. In the meantime, here’s how I’m coping:

  • Stick head in freezer
  • Use every ice pack, ice pad, ice cube from the freezer
  • Strategically place above said ice thingies on my body as I lay in an X-formation on my bed under the ceiling fan with the AC set to 60.
  • Eat frozen ice pops. You know the flavors – red, blue, green, orange, yellow.
  • Pour a big glass of ice water then hold glass to face.
  • Hang out in the freezer section at the grocery store (Walk-in freezers = Bae)

Don’t get me started on clothing. Let’s just say the general public is lucky that I work from home. Right now, a casual business outfit might as well be a fur coat.




One thought on “Menopause… You cruel, cruel bitch

  1. When my doctor asked me if I was experiencing mood swings, I replied “Not that I’m aware of.” He didn’t think I was as funny as I thought I was.


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