Menstruation Blues

This morning I was sitting up in bed with a pot of tea and a hot water bottle, because I’m menstruating, for the first time in five years.

I’m supposed to be POST menopausal. I have the hairs to prove it.

You ever wonder where the hairs on your legs go as you age? I know where. Ears, chin, and one very fine one that pops up in a different part of your body immediately after you eliminate it from somewhere else. Apparently this is normal.

Also ‘normal’ is menstruating like this … unless it ‘continues’.

How the hell does one define which side of the ‘continues’ continuum one is on?

Is it the number of tampons one goes through in a day? Which incidentally I don’t recommend using (after a five year break) without some sort of preparation. (the details of which I won’t go into here because even for a post as ‘menstrual-y’ as this one, that might be just too much information)

Is it a compilation of the kinds of emotional meltdowns one can go through into a single hour? Perhaps calibrated to the number of hankies one uses?

Or the intensity of cramps? Which sucked when I was 15, sucked when I was 35, and damn me if they don’t still suck at 58!

**pours Self another cup of tea, whimpers at Mrs Widds for another hot water bottle, and slides further under the covers**

I’m consigning the rest of today to the ‘hell-and-gone’ basket, and …

**looks our the window with a pale and wan melancholia**

…well … would you look at that? It’s raining … again …

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‘Menstruation Blues’ is the title of a song by Robyn Archer. If you’ve never heard of her, go check her out. (who could resist such a cheeky grin?)

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There are so many sad (and melancholic) songs about rain, and I couldn’t go past my favourite diva of all time … the Divine Miss M