Tuesday, 14 August 2012

Grumpy, frumpy, teary & tired

And that's on a good day.

I stopped going to the gym when my son moved home because I couldn't afford it any more.  That is true but it is also a bit of an excuse if I'm really honest.  That makes me grumpy.

And surprise, surprise, I've put back on all the weight I lost. And now I look frumpy.

I'm still really bloated and have a constant feeling of a period just about to happen, which doesn't, so I have got all that horrible premenstrual buildup without the release.  Go on, guess what that makes me.  Yep, teary.  At the slightest thing.  I'm having little meltdowns all over the place.  I'm normally pretty stoic about stuff, but lately everything seems overwhelming and I get a panicky feeling like I'm only treading water and about to go under.  My heart beats too fast and my imagination runs riot.  I find I'm buying into the MSM rhetoric of doom and gloom and starting to believe that the sky really is falling.  The logical part of me (and there is one, she's just sitting right at the very back, glancing up occasionally, raising an eyebrow at all the carry-on up the front) knows I'm being ridiculous but I seem to be a slave to my emotions and hormones right now and let me tell you, I don't like it one little bit.

And tired.  Don't talk to me about tired.  I am tired so deep in my bones.  It reminds me of the tiredness of very early pregnancy (I recall falling asleep at my desk at work when I was around 7 weeks' pregnant).  I never seem to be able to sleep long enough or deep enough.  Everything aches when I get up (I think we need a new mattress).

And I whinge.  All the time. Like this post is nothing but one long whinge.

I need to remember that in the broader context, I'm an exceptionally privileged white woman living in a country with one of the strongest economies in the world at the moment and that all this perimenopausal wailing and gnashing of teeth is nothing but a First World Problem.  I need to shame myself out of this self-indulgent fug.

I am off on holidays in one week.  I am going to try really hard not to be any of the four things in this post title, I really am, but I can't guarantee I will succeed.

About the only thing I am sure of at the moment is that I really, really need a holiday.

how I wish I looked when I cry

What I really look like when I cry

Sunday, 5 August 2012

Come back! All is forgiven

My period that is. After bitching and moaning about it so much a few months ago, it's continued to sulk and has not been seen since.

Now I want it. Desperately. And I want it within the next two weeks before we go on a long-awaited, much deserved holiday to Malaysia (a week in Kuala Lumpur - shopping!! and a week in Borneo).  The last thing I want is a perimenopausal period while I'm swanning around Borneo with the orangutans, believe me.  I'm already traumatised by the realisation that Malaysia is hot. And where we're staying has a pool.  And Borneo has beaches.

You know what this all means don't you? That's right. Bathers.

[space reserved for a respectful silence as women contemplate this]

Oh it's been teasing me - low cramps, an egg-popping feeling on the right, bloating - but no red flag.

I have a horrible feeling that it will come just before we leave or worse, while we're away.

I wish it would just make up its bloody mind (see what I did there?). At this rate, it's rivalling John Farnham for comeback tours and I've just about had enough.

So finger's crossed it makes an appearance in the next two weeks so I can get it over and done with. And I can concentrate on the full horror awaiting me, a Malaysian pool and unsuspecting tourists.

We're off to Malaysia for 16 days! Woohoo!