Right when I became a midlifer, I was put into surgical menopause. The reasons aren’t that important, my ovaries did not like me, and frankly, I didn’t like them much either. So, we parted ways. Since the age of 41, I have been on what the menopausal call HRT, which to you period chicks, means Hormone Replacement Therapy. This is a strange invention.
Does it take care of hot flashes that you get when you no longer have ovaries that give off the hormone that keeps them at bay? Sometimes.
Does it help with the weepies, willies, and sybilizing? Not really.
Does it keep the pounding headaches at bay? Mostly.
Here is what it does NOT do. It does not stop your body from breaking out like a 14-year-old boy who has wet dreams every night and erections all day long.
Let me address the “I am a soon to be 50-year-old woman with no ovaries, no uterus and no cervix and zit” phenomena further. Yes, a story is coming up, so please make yourselves comfy, get your coffee or tea or whatever and put on your listening ears.
Once upon a time, there was a young, old woman. She noticed one morning that it hurt when she smiled. She gingerly touched her cheek and felt what was surely going to be a huge honking zit. It was red, it was large, and it hurt to touch. Now, you all know what I mean and have all experienced this, I am sure. If not, I hate you. Moving on.
The woman watched this for a couple of days, thinking that maybe it was not a zit, but a colossal mosquito bite. Maybe an ant crawled on her face while she was sleeping and bit her. Perhaps it was one of those spiders that cause one-half of your face to swell up like the elephant man.
She thought of covering it up with some makeup, but since she doesn’t wear makeup and has forgotten how to apply it, what was the point. Also, it seems as if those that do cover zits with makeup just draw more attention to it.
These were some of the things the woman heard over the next few days…
“Did you know you have a pimple on your cheek?” Yes, I know, it is Mount Rushmore and Mount Vesuvius combined, and will rupture and cover the world with puss it is so large.
“What’s that red thing on your face?” A ZIT! DUH!
“Mommy, there is something on your face.” Gee, thanks for the 4-1-1!
The woman tried everything. She put drying cream at night, which just made it that much redder when she woke up. She tried hot packs. She tried cold packs. She tried to smash it back into her skin with a book. Nothing was working.
Until…
One morning she woke up and there it was. A head. But, not just ONE head, but TWO! This zit was so huge it grew two heads, and they were having a conversation. Discussing the weather. They were talking about growing up larger to see over the nose and see if the grass is truly greener on the other side. They were lovers and discussed having babies. They were friends and shared a cup of coffee and some chocolate. They were ALIVE!
She had had enough! She was going to show this two-headed zit who was boss! She sat in her chair in front of her makeup mirror and braced herself. She squeezed. She heard the satisfying pop, and the puss flew…
And thus the two-headed zit was slain. Bells tolled, and freedom rang throughout the land. Fireworks went off, and the sun came out. The village threw a party.
And whoever said that two heads were better than one can bite me!
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