Welcome to my completely uncensored and random stream of thoughts which are probably not interesting at all – but you clearly have nothing else to do right now otherwise you wouldn't be here? So stay a while! xoxo
Y’all please. I have no words. Actually, I do. I have words. Lots of words.
Here’s what I KNOW about peri/post menopause from personal experience:
I thought I knew all the things. And I’ve been faithfully checking the menopause boxes.
ALL. THE. F’ING. BOXES.
Truth be told, none of them surprised me. But THIS? Now I must deal with THIS shit?!
Because what? Why? The other indignities weren’t enough?
So welcome Amy to the latest delightful experience in female aging ….Crotch Sweat.
Google it. I did!!!! IT’S HORRIFIC! They also call it “Groin Sweat” which frankly doesn’t sound any better to me.
In a nutshell, what happens is this. You’re sitting on a patio with some friends at the cutest coolest bar that just opened. You’re wearing the most adorable jeans that you have literally worked your ASS off to get back into (re: #9 and #12 of things I know). Despite the fact that it’s in the low 80s, the sun has set, and there’s a refreshing little breeze – you start to sweat. This is not new. The sweat streaming down your back makes your insanely gorgeous white sleeve-y Anthropologie blouse uncomfortably stick to you. Again … been there. Staying calm. But what happens next … what IS new … HORRIFYINGLY NEW is that when your pants feel odd and you look down at your crotch – it honest to God looks like you’ve wet your pants. Sadly, for a second, you actually question yourself!
Wait. No. Did I just? No. Please no. But could I have?.
Could I have just peed myself with zero awareness of it happening AT ALL?!?
DID. I. JUST. DO. THAT???”
The internal dialog is scathing and filled with self-doubt. Finally, mentally, you get to the point that surely you would know if you had a Toddler TeeTee situation or not.
Right? Surely. So what else could it be?!
You didn’t spill a drink. But…you ARE sweating .
Is this sweat?
Is my vagina area literally running a marathon that I don’t know about?
And that’s when it hits you …
So here we are, menopause. Here we are.
I honestly don’t even know where to go from here. Later in the evening when I actually DID have to go to the restroom (which was oddly reassuring because it solidified the fact that I can at least tell when the urge arises) – my super sweet and thoughtful friend walked in front of me to the bathroom so nobody could see the tell-tale signs of menopause distress OR think that I have no problem strutting around in my own urine. And now that I’m thinking about it … is one better than the other? Is it better to have people think I wet myself or that my groin is flooding? I’m thinking there really isn’t a winning scenario here no matter where people’s conclusions jump. So y’all…what the hell is next?!? Seriously?! What delightful little shit show is going to appear that I should prepare myself for? Please tell me!
Ugh. Good God. I’m never leaving the house again.
Please join me next week for Episode 247 of ‘Your 40s and 50s will F*ck with You’
to hear about those times when it actually IS pee. Sigh.