If my Period is Gone, Why Does my Life Suck?

Well, that was easy. Or, was it?

My period is gone. I've been through menopause and didn't even notice until it was over.

No more bleeding three weeks out of four. No more PMS. No more swollen, lumpy tits that hurt if I move. No more zits. No more allergic reactions to adhesive on feminine hygiene products. No more "period panties." No more tampons that feel like they were made out of recycled fiberglass. Not even that first-day-of-your-period exploding diarrhea. It's over. And I missed it.

I thought it was supposed to be hard. Mood swings. Hot flashes. Facial hair. Growing a penis because you can't afford your hormone pills...

Seems to me that it was a piece of cake. Chocolate cake, even.

I should be overjoyed. Life should be wonderful now. That was the plan. But, no.

Life sucks and then you die. And if your period has taken a powder, well, that means you're getting old and going to die soon. Any day now.

It also means that your natural red hair and the personality that went with it aren't as vibrant as they used to be. In fact, you wouldn't be lying if you called them both mousy brown. It's very likely that when you wake up tomorrow or the next day they will both be dreary gray. I know they sell boxes of smelly stuff to take care of the hair color. But is there a box of stuff to take care of the personality?

Then there's the reason my period fled. It saw my daughter's period coming and it had the good sense to get out of town. Leaving me here to deal with an adolescent girl without the excuse of my own hormones when I finally lose my mind.

And I will lose my mind. Already have, in fact. No one noticed. Not even me. But looking back, the evidence that I've gone crazy was there for anyone to see.

First I quit writing. I thought I was busy or had Writer's Block or my keyboard was too full of potato chips or any number of excuses. But the real reason was I got tired of making people laugh. I got tired of my misfortune making someone else's day. I want to stand up and scream, "You know, that really isn't funny!" It isn't funny that the last time I had sex with my husband was an unmitigated disaster. It isn't funny that I'm still waiting for the babysitter I never got on my wedding night or any of my anniversaries.

Then, I quit talking to anyone for the most part. Everyone had problems and I felt too overwhelmed with my own to so much as read about theirs. So I left Gather. I didn't know I had left until one day I noticed I hadn't been back and didn't think I would be able to come back being unable to write or read about anyone's problems and all. It was kinda like the period. I don't know how long it had been gone by the time I noticed it was gone.

So here I am. I sat down to write something funny and it didn't work out. Really, I had a funny in my head when I sat down or I wouldn't have sat down. What happened to it? Dunno.

I was going to talk about buying face cream for "mature" skin yesterday and how bizarre that actually was for me. How taking that anti-wrinkle old lady cream to the checkout made me feel a lot like taking a box of condoms to the check-out made me feel a few decades ago.

I was going to talk about my no-longer-lumpy but still flat and oddly saggy titties. How can a pancake sag, anyway?

I was going to talk about never shopping in the juniors department again.

And it was going to be funny. Really, it was. But now it's only sad. So sad.

I'm old. Middle-aged. Menopausal. Isn't there supposed to be some reward? Wasn't there supposed to be more? I still have to wash shitty underpants every week. I still have kids! Little kids! I still can't get an effing babysitter to save my life. And let me tell you, it really is to save my life at this point.

My husband and I might be divorcing. I say might because I might not have the energy to actually do it. I've made plans. I've talked to lawyers. It's certainly something I can do if I can find the energy. It feels oddly good to know that I can do it.

At first I said it was because he started playing World of Warcraft. I even thought maybe I could sue WoW for Alienation of Affection and make them pay all the attorney fees.

Then today I realized it hasn't got anything to do with WoW. It's just that I'm sick of waiting for that babysitter and I'm old now and going to die soon and I just want to go out to dinner and a movie without kids. Just once before I die and if I get a divorce I might be able to find a man to take me on a date on the every other weekend that my husband has the kids. And I might get to have sex again before I die.

And if you think that any of my family or friends will read this and actually offer to take my kids for a few hours you've got to be crazier than I am. I used to believe that might happen kinda like some people believe in God. Guess what? The last time I had a anywhere for both of my kids to go was back when a woman named Carol was alive. She had menopause, got old-wrinkled-saggy, and died, leaving me with no one willing to watch both kids at the same time.

So I've come through on the other side of this thing called menopause. Other than the lack of bleeding and PMS, there isn't any reward. I just get to be old, wrinkled, and dull now. Then die. And I can't think of any way to make that funny.

This marticle might self-destruct shortly. It just seems to whiny, un-funny, and not at all like something a fiery red-head would have written. I'm going to publish it because I promised to try.