So this post should have come to you on the 1st January but so far 2019 has served me up a series of feckin disasters. Right now I’d make the Rev IM Jolly seem exactly that!
As some of you already know, an eminent New York Doctor once referred to Menopausal Women as Galloping Catastrophes. And right now I think he was right on the bloody money! And 2019 was supposed to be my feckin year – out exercising; showing off my six pack; smiling, being happy and beautiful – becoming a kind of Mary Poppins/Pollyanna/Davina type character was my aim.
Well of course that is not the case as I am just a walking accident waiting to bloody happen. Or actually to be more accurate – not walking at the moment..
As literally one second past midnight on Hogmany I wrenched my back during a particular energetic version of Auld Lang Syne. An agonising trip up to bed helped along by several strong guests (while fleetingly remembering the days when I was young and slim enough to be swept up the stairs in the arms of just one – not that it ever happened of course – but you know – it could of…)
I was then dumped unceremoniously in bed while everyone then fecked off to enjoy the party. I managed to get myself into a fairly comfy position with arse in the air and slightly twisted onto one shoulder a (while fleetingly remembering.. oh wait a minute … maybe best not share that one…) Then I found a peanut in the bed left over from a Netflix binge the night before (The Sinner – so good- if you haven’t seen it you should… fab) so I crunched on it – and then this horrible sensation hit – as my tooth literally broke in half. Literally half of it fell out. And I’m thinking where the actual fuck will I find a sober and available dentist in Scotland before the 5th January. However when I awoke at 5am my mind had been taken off this by being struck down by the worst flu bug ever. And I am talking proper feckin flu not that Man Flu pish or the common bloody cold. Literally unable to move. But then I had to because of that little pulling sensation in the tummy that tells every woman that – coooeeeeee guess who has arrived to visit you this lovely New Years day. Yep 2019 I had planned to be the year that my periods stopped – we were up at 8 months and counting. But now we have to reset the fecking clock again for that magical one year. And let me be clear – I feckin expect unicorns glitter and fireworks as a bare minimum to celebrate that move to officially post menopausal.
So 2019 – you have been shit so far. I can’t eat ice lollies to soothe my throat as the pain rockets up by nerve in my tooth (dentist will be sober enough Monday to fix it thankfully). Everytime I cough, not only do I have the usual issue of peeing myself but my back goes into massive spasms. I am dripping with sweat so look like I have just been jet washed. Though if I try to be positive the hot flushes will never feel so bad again!
I am giving myself a week to be miserable then i am going to start planting me some flowers! Coz then I will have me some flowers!!
Happy 2019 to all the other Galloping Catastrophes out there – hope that so far it is going slightly better than mine and lang may yir lum reek!