…sucks more balls than going to the Padda Doctor
…it’s driving me nuts
…you’re hot then you’re cold….thank you Katy, but I’m just frikkin’ HOT
…I’m on fire…fireball…yeah, Pitbull, that I am.
I’ve decided to blog more frequently, by recording some of the sillier parts of my life.
Dizzy’s Midlife Chronicles it will be. Here’s part 1. Read it and weep. Or laugh. Your choice.
I went out tonight. With some friends (I hope). A few things I’ve noticed (I have some experience here, trust me)
1. I feel goddamn sexy after the 2nd glass of wine (or mojito or caiperina)
2. The oppostite sex feels the same way (judging from eye contact and body language)
3. I feel I can conquer the world
4. I have solutions to all my problems
5. I have questions to stuff I never even thought about (untapped intellect < get it??)
6. I feel I can conquer the world
7. I'm horny as hell
8. After walking around naked for about 20 minutes in front of hubby, I realise I could just as well have been wearing a sack (<what's wrong with this picture????)
9. I am not attracted to just any tom-dick-and-harry (I was worried for a bit there)
10. I wish I could bottle feelings 1, 3 & 6
11. Well, maybe I'll still get lucky 😛
G'night from way over here 🙂
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I have just come from my umpteenth blood test.
I am filled with so many emotions right now…anger, disappointment, futility….but the most overwhelming is…I am just plain fucking pissed off. On a scale of 1 – 10, I am at 12. That’s how angry I am
I might have told you that something was wrong with me in this post. And that was weeks ago. At that point I was already humungously angry since no one was able to tell me what the hell’s the cause of my anemia. I have seen different doctors – internists, gastroenterologists, gynaecologist – just about every single ~ist you can think of. All that’s missing is a fucking psychologist – because…maybe it’s all in my head, hey?
And through it all I keep telling myself “It will be better as soon as I know“….As soon as I know what? That it’s incurable? That it’s all in my head? That I’ve basically lost 3 months of my life AGAIN???? That I can deal with it AS SOON AS I KNOW?
I dunno anymore. I think this is just the start. Once they find out it won’t stop there. Unless I just have a few screws loose of course. Then the real fun starts 😉
At the moment I honestly don’t care about anyone but myself. I can’t deal with work, I can’t deal with my kids’ issues, I can’t deal with hubby’s issues. I just can’t deal. Because it is all about me. If I am not well, no one will be well. And I will continue alternately moping, then swearing then dancing around like a madwoman. So I have to focus on sorting me out first. Is that wrong?
So my question – is it really better if you know…whether your husband/wife is cheating on you, whether your mother has an incurable disease, whether you have an incurable disease…
Do you think you can fight the devil as long as he has a face? Can we really deal with “it” once we know what and who it is we have to fight with/against? Will knowing make it any more bearable or “dealable”????
I am hanging on….but by a thread. This needs to come to an end.
Sorry, not the ones you know covered in candy, but as in “Menopause & Midlife (crises)”
When I looked at my last post (no, I didn’t cringe) I see it for what it was. A woman who had completely lost her marbles. Someone whose mind had been taken over by aliens. For a split second I almost believed that. A girl can try, can’t she?
Today, I felt more lucid. Calm, controlled. And angry. Myself. Watch out world!!!
But with the lucidity came the questions – why did/do I feel like that? When did I first notice the crazy (ok, ignore that part). Is it normal to get so crazy (PMS excluded)? And I started thinking about a whole lot of things, bits and bobs of experiences shared by my cuzzins came back to me…slowly, I admit, but I can’t claim always being fast on the draw…
It hit me square in the middle of my frazzled brain – this is not just me, being my normal crazy – there’s a whole lot more going on. And the M&M’s might just be the start (and finale) of it all. This is my story and I am sticking to it…
So I took some time out to read up on some M&M’s. I only read a few articles (never mind that I spent almost half a day on this) which were enough to equip me with dazzling clarity – that I am truly having the M&M’s. Did I mention I am sticking to this story like superglue?
It would appear that I am not fortunate enough to experience the M&M’s in phases (like other normal women I suppose) and in the sequence I would have preferred (i.e. Serie, not Parallel ….remember: organised and controlled??). No, it seems I am lucky enough to get the double whammy in one fell swoop. FCUK.
I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry. I mean, is it too much to ask that a girl only gets hit by one wave at one time?
….and think about it for a second – if you could choose, what would you prefer to have first – Menopause or The Crises? To be honest, my choice would be Menopause first – I could make up for all the crap I went through afterwards by completely immersing myself in The Crises (did you notice I dubbed it “The Crises” now? Damn I’m good…). After the emotional turmoil of Menopause, anyone would be dying for The Crises – it’s almost like an affirmation of life and womanhood, right? That you are ok, and sane and still attractive (hopefully). No jokes. I actually believe this shit.
Me-No (getit????) is like one of those farts – no one hears it, no one sees it, no one smells it. But boy, do you know you let rip. Even at home. They see no outward change, no stray hairs, don’t hear you having complete conversations with yourself. Nor do they wonder what you are really doing in the bathroom for hours on end (with the make-up mirror in hand no less). It’s only the occasional screech-fest which alerts the boys something may be awry. Poor hubs. I do rather feel sorry for him. He deserves better, but there’s no way in hell I’m telling him that!!
The Crises is everything but. Anyone with 20/20 vision can spot it a mile away. Probably because you act and dress completely opposite to your normal self. What gives it away….the sudden fixation on
• hooker heels (check),
• the daring outfits (sigh…check)
• (more) make-up (chee-eeck)
• flirting (furtively) inappropriately with young(er) men (CHECK),
• depression (CHECK)
• getting a tattoo (can’t decide which one and where to put it…)
• (insane) interest in obtaining THE physique (triple check).
• generally being shameless whenever you find the chance (CHEEECKKKKK!!).
Sound familiar? If it doesn’t you are probably in denial. Take the first step – admit it, then embrace it….
There are people who really know about this stuff, who can tell you a whole lot more than I can about the true face of the M&M’s. I was bored to tears by some of it, and I will not repeat, but will be kind enough to leave you to read one yourself. You can thank me later. Warning: explicit sex and nudity cannot be expected here
What I found interesting from some articles were – that many women publish memoirs of their lives – post M&M’s of course. Writing about how tortured they were and how they survived the horrors, to finally transcend into lucidity and inner peace. Seriously?! I am more interested in milking The Crises for all it’s worth, thank you very much.…
What does piss me off though – men get to use this excuse longer than we do…The Crises lasts about 3–10 years with men and 2–5 years with women…..That’s just wrong – why do men get to have this much (guilt-free?) fun????? And did you know, The Crises itself could last way into your 60’s?? (don’t quote me on that, Wikipedia is not that trustworthy) I have to admit, that’s way too much excitement, even for me
In any case (now to the crux of the matter) – I have decided …. seeing that I can only get away with this excuse for max 5 years, I ‘d better go for it with all I’ve got. To hell with what’s written and with all the judgment. Enough of the Jammer Sannie shit. I will embrace this new chapter in my life. And irritate the crap out of you with all my dizzy interpretations.
So bring on the bling, and the short skirts, and the leather pants (ok, maybe I’ll pass on that) and the inappropriate flirting with the young(er) men. This is me now, and I think I might just like it.
I will no longer look at other women in their 40’s and think they are pathetic, with their big do’s, toy boys and tight skirts. I will think “Yeah, mama, you go get ‘em girl, it’s your turn”
…in the meantime, I can dream….sigh
I may feel differently next week, but honey (yes you, reading this post), I love the idea that I can use M&M’s as an excuse. And I am delirious it’s not just the guys who are privileged to use The Crises either. Yay for (a bit of) gender equality!!!
Until the next dizzying time
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