Pause

I don’t want to alarm you, but I think I’m menopausing. Or at least I skipped my period. I doubt that I’m pregnant and I really hope I’m not because if I am, this blog is quickly going to turn into Motherhood of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome Baby in NYC and to be quite frank with you, I don’t have the energy to get a new header.

So, not pregnant.

Which means, menopause.

I tweeted about it earlier in the week, because I’m one of those people who believes that the experience is not complete unless it’s been tweeted and a friend of mine replied that I was lucky and that she couldn’t wait until she stops getting her period. Which reminded me of my son saying that he couldn’t wait to turn 65 so that he can retire.

But back to me. And my menopause.

I have not been getting hot flashes yet, so of course I’m panicked about why not. And then yesterday I thought I had an anticipatory hot flash, but then I realized that it was 70 degrees outside and I was wearing a cashmere sweater. Husbandrinka assures me that I am in “constant full-bitch mode” but I think that he is just trying out some new pick up lines.

And then last night, I was thinking about how for the past few years, whenever I had my gynecological check ups, my doctor would ask, “do you have dryness? Frequent urination? Burning while urinating? Painful intercourse?” and I’d be all bubble gum popping and “no, no, no, no” and for some reason I assumed that he was asking those questions because he was trying to make casual conversation while caressing my fallopian tubes, rather than because he was working off of a list of shit that I’m going to have to deal with at some point.

So now I’m worried that I have all that to look forward to.

But at least I’m not pregnant.

One year ago ...

• The Menstruating Vagina T-Shirt - 2013