…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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Have you ever been in a situation where you felt like you were reacting completely opposite to who you really are? Like totally contradictory to your nature? Have you ever wondered if it’s really true that people only bring out either the best or worst in you?
No? Me neither.
Now I know this might seem like it’s gonna turn out to be an immensely cerebral and interesting post. Alas. I have to surprise you. It’s not
This is a vent post. Be warned. Don’t look for logic or clarity of speech.
I was pissed off because husband didn’t have the food ready at 18:00. Like I asked him so nicely to do. I’d had a really kak day at work – demanding customers and childish team mates just completely drained me. And because of back to back meetings, I never got a bite to eat. Now remember – I am not well (no comments about my mental condition please!!) physically so I need to be fed properly. So by the time I got home I was practically expiring from malnutrition and dehydration, and looking really forward to a warm plate of food. But there wasn’t any (did you catch that exaggeration?)
And I sulked. I didn’t do the adult thing and throw a tantrum. No. I just kept quiet and sulked. Maybe that in itself is throwing a tantrum.
While I was sulking I was having great arguments with him. In my head. “How disappointed I am. How it pisses me off that he gets to sit around watching TV, doing whatever he wants all day – I would love that luxury. That he can’t do just one thing I ask for. That he should take better care of me as the breadwinner. That he has his job and I have my job and we need to do what we need to do” and all such grown up stuff.
I just kept this all to myself. Because it’s sort of obvious to me, and it should be to him. Why should we even be having such a discussion?
Am I being selfish and unreasonable?
My boss expects me to perform – I expect the same from him (him = hubby, in case you were lost). Is that too much to ask? Am I selfish? Should I leave him to do just do what he wants, when he wants, and if he doesn’t feel like it, just ignore it like the elephant in the room?
Sometimes I am selfish and unreasonable. But sometimes I actually believe I am not – that what I expect is just the same as the next guy who’s wife is a stay-at-home parent: a clean house, clean clothes, food when I come from work (and not flippen at 09:00pm!!!) a glass of wine at the ready and the kids needs taken care of.
Is that really too much to ask?
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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