Menopausal Poverty

The term ‘fucker of a day’ was coined by someone who had a day just like the one I’ve just had! Last day of work before annual leave – I head off to Glasgow and am almost there before I remember today is a day for the Edinburgh office and have to do a fecker of a reroute back! It should be law that forgetful menopausal women can only work in one place! Also none of my colleagues seem to have got the memo that on the last day before your holiday you do very little apart from turn on your ‘out of office’ and give everyone a regular countdown throughout the day of how long it is before you start your holidays. No – my colleagues got some other memo that said irritate the fuck out anyone going on holiday by asking them to meetings to discuss how things can stay ‘on piste’ in their absence or how x project can ‘maintain its flightpath’. And I had to pretend to be interested in all the things that would happen while I was lying on a beach drinking cocktails. Finally I got to bugger off home and would have loved to have gone on a pre holiday spa – get my nails and hair done etc. But I am suffering from ‘menopausal poverty’ which is the fresh hell you get after years of ‘period poverty’. Having to spend money on things like magnesium supplements; tena lady; a bigger size of clothes every two months; new shoes to cheer yourself up; buying friends lunch to make up for calling their husbands tossers when in the midst of ‘menopausal honesty moments’; new glasses as your sight decides to give up the ghost as well as various other parts of your body; waxing and laser treatment for all the excess facial hair; dying the gray from your hair; getting the odd wierd skin tag thing removed; slimming club memberships all adds up There should be a tax allowance for menopausal women!! But the government is too busy stealing our pensions to think of that so instead of a lovely £400 spa I decide to have a relaxing bath with magensium flakes in it (£3.95 for a pouchful – Holland and Barrat); a large glass of red wine (£4.99 a bottle Aldi); and a mint club (£1 for a pack of 5 in Asda) while wearing a special face mask (99p superdrug) thus saving £390.95. I mean it’s not exactly Champneys but it will do. And it was quite nice til Sweet Dog decided to try and get in the bath with me for some reason that I will probably never fathom. In pushing her out I spilt my red wine and my mint club fell in the water. But there is no way I was getting out of that bath as the magnesium flakes were expensive and the instructions insist you stay submerged for 20 mins for maximum benefit! My partner comes in and screams. And I nearly jump out of my skin as I was just dozing off. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you? I am trying to relax’ I shout. But I kind of see where ‘the fear’ may have come from – I am lying with a mask that makes me resemble Hannibal Lecter in a bath that looks like it is blood with what they thought was a large poo floating beside me (not realising it was a melting mint club). I am a little disappointed as the HRT is boosting my libido but I suspect this isn’t the best foreplay and my luck may not be in! Anyway – they have bought the M&S dine in for £12 for dinner so I am a little bit happier. I decide to check Facebook while they cook it. It greets me with a premenopausal photo from 8 years ago looking young freshfaced and not the kind of person that considers stabbing people on a regular basis. I wonder if I can disable the ‘memories’ – oh look here is your dead granny from 10 years ago’/’oh remember your dog you adored thatis now dead? No? You had just got over it? Ha Ha – here is a picture to rub it in’… etc… And I check the fridge and am even more raging. Can I ask – who on this planet gets the cheese as the desert option in the Dine In offer? I mean really? The cheese? I know for a fact there was a profitorole stack and millionaire chocolate dessert as options. WHO PICKS THE BLOODY CHEESE OVER THAT? It is times like this that I wonder if we are suited at all and maybe we should just end it due to ‘irreconcilable differences’ in what constitutes a good pudding. But then I remember the other four mint clubs!! So not a complete total fucker of a day! And it is holiday time tomorrow. No more working for a week or two. We are going where the sun better feckin shine brightly and the sky better be feckin blue (to paraphrase Cliff Richard!) To follow my menopausal musings – scroll up click on my face and click follow Twitter – @gallopingcatast #menopause #menopausalmadness
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2 thoughts on “Menopausal Poverty”

  1. to write a comment requires logging in to some workspace,and remembering a password….. was also thinking that maybe partner could acquire a name such as Beloved, or One who usually lets me off with everything, because using “they” jumps out a bad english grammar if you are not used to trans people! picture is wonderful….. and back to being very funny…..



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