Acronyms are great.  They protect me from public mispronunciation of words I don’t understand and save me from saying words I really, really,  hate,  like menstrual.  That’s right, this blog is about an acronym with a reputation–a term so loaded, or should I say bloated, and hapahazardly used that it no longer carries the weight it should.

It is thrown around with wild abandon–tossed at moody teenage girls and hurled at crabby moms for sport.  It is used by women as an excuse to be bitchy and by men as a reason to avoid contact. It’s understandable too.  There is a part of me that dies just before my uterus decides to do its thing and is resurrected just after shark week* comes to an end.  I become an emotional invalid.  A crying machine–moved to tears by car commercials, eighties power ballads and showering.  The lines around my face seem unlovely and unlovable and I am fairly certain my husband, not only no longer loves me, but probably never has.  My motherhood feels flimsy and my future, bleak.  My heart turns to a combination of thorns and jello. I am too soft and touchy to make contact with.

This phenomenon seems to be worsening with age.  The crying starts about 7 days before commencement and the worthlessness comes a couple days later.  Jealousy and hopelessness are usually responsible for the finale with a curtain call of regret.

I am sure a little progesterone cream from Aunt Barbara or a trip to Tahiti would solve the problem.  But, in the meantime, I would like to feel in better control of my emotions or at least more confident in my ability to navigate the tumult.

I wish I could Brene Brown this into a motivational blog about vulnerability, and the empowerment of my own uterus, but I have not arrived at my guru phase of the month.  When I get there,  I will drop a power blog on you full of acquired wisdom and personal epiphanies. Until then, I will try to appreciate these final years with my temperamental reproductive organs and make peace with the process as best I can.

*Thank you Rachel for introducing me to the Euphemism — shark week,

3 thoughts

  1. I friggin LOVE you! You even make PMS humorous. Who DOES that? I’ll tell you who… Heather.
    “Curtain call of regret”!!!! I died.

    Like

  2. Estrogen dominance is the culprit and you have free progesterone for as long as you need it and then bam, a cry for our solution to combat a way harsher conditioning called Menopause. If you think peri-menopause is rough, buckle up for Menopause. Your bed will be soaked by sweat and your body temp escalades to desert highs. Oh, not to mention suicidal feelings. Good thing feelings are not fact. Loved your blog and I will bring some Natural progesterone if you want it.

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