Are You There God? It's Me, Dazed and Confuddled (Another TMI post)

Girls, you know what I'm talking about, right?  Mother Nature?  That "time"?  Wouldn't it seem that at 43, I would have a basic grasp on my body's activities?  And yet, I walk into the bathroom and SURPRISE!  I've been blessed with a visit I anticipated to arrive sometime next week.

It's no wonder men find women so mystifying.  We're always changing.  If we don't know when or how to expect our hormones to hit us how can they be expected to keep up?  Guys are straightforward and never changing, besides a classy touch of gray.  If Steve was an asshole at twelve, chances are he's still an asshole at fifty-two and is an asshole just about every day of the year.  Cathy, on the other hand, can be a raging bitch all through high school, come to some sort of epiphany in college and start being the nicest most generous person you ever met... well except three days before her period which may or may not be this week.

The Husband swears I bring this on intentionally, ruining a full weekend of being at home with no kid.  Yeah right.  Not like I would want it at work or on a busy weekend or... well... anytime for that matter.  No I do NOT will it to happen.  My baby production years are over and thus my need for monthly anything can gladly go bye-bye.  The doctor who made sure I can't have babies would gladly give me a full-on hysterectomy if she ever found out I got pregnant again - she did not enjoy the hell I put her through with my high risk pregnancies.  I know better than to wish for any of the reasons to yank out body parts, so I won't.  No tempting fate here.

But still, wouldn't it be nice if on the morning of, there would be a little bell ringing warning of the impending doom headed your way?  I don't even need exact times, just a little heads up that today is the day that I need to trot to the bathroom with my purse securely tucked under my arm.  I bet the guys didn't know that the original purpose of purses was solely to transport monthly supplies and lipstick?  Not wrenches and flickering lugnuts won at the car show?  Seriously.  Purses are God's way to ensure women can sneak into the bathroom without announcing "HEY, I'VE GOT TO CHANGE EQUIPMENT... AGAIN"

Shit bring back the cramps!  I can't believe I'm even asking for that.  But at least I knew, well sort of.  I would bitch and moan about not feeling good and how my back hurt and then it would strike me, hey dummy those are cramps, get ready.  That's right, I would have cramps and not even know it.  EVERY DAMN MONTH.  A couple of years ago they disappeared.  YIPPY!  But then I also lost any sort of sign that you-know-what was about to happen.

When I talked to my doctor about the change in symptoms, she smiled sweetly and told me that I was experiencing "peri-menopause."  I'm so pissed I won't even bother looking it up.  I presume it means that lovely time when my body is trying to switch gears into full blown menopause, but not yet, we're still having fun with the bathroom surprises.  And all of you who have lived through the menopause years - I don't want to hear it.  The hot flashes and the cold flashes and the continued surprises and mood swings.  I just cannot wait.  Usually I want all of the details so I can enter the new phase in my life fully equipped, but I really and truly do not want to know.  I think I've had information overload and really need to cope with the issue at hand and as far as I can tell there is no coping, just whining.  And SURPRISE.

I used to like surprises.  This is really fucking up my entire sense of self.