Menopause Whine

My man likes to cuddle but I get too hot
He tends to forget that I’m losing the plot
About to combust like some pagan pyre
I feel like a blasted furnace on fire

I lie there and steam in a puddle of sweat
My body and hair are all soaking wet
I sneak out of bed – looking for air
Menopause is a bitch – it’s not freaking fair 

I’m awake half the night – thinking about stuff
When the alarm goes off – I have not slept enough
The day is soooooo long – I need a nap or two
But that’s not going to happen – there’s lots of work to do

I walk into a room and forget why I’m there
I walk out again and go back down the stairs
Then I remember – Oh bugger! Oh shit!
I went to fetch washing – yes, I’m sure that was it

So I go back up and open the washing basket lid
But the bloody thing’s empty – the washing is hid
Then I remember – it’s already in the machine
It’s around about then that I want to scream

I break out in yet another sweaty fog
Thank f*#k at least I don’t smell like a hog
Take deep calming breathes that don’t mean a jot
I’d like some wine now – my nerves are all shot

But wait, oh shite… it’s not even nine
That would mean it isn’t yet vaguely wine time
Close my eyes and swear under my breath…
This effing menopause will be the cause of my death 

My files are all messy – my laptop is a tip
I get beyond frustrated as I search for stuff and drip
My wretched cell phone has started playing hide and seek
Where on earth has it stashed the photos from last week

At least I am lucky that I haven’t got fat
But, let me tell you, there’s a reason for that
Instead of having blessed empty-nest syndrome
Three effing kids have found their way home

There’s never enough milk, bread or cheese
And the meals that I cook do not always please
The sink has magical properties it didn’t have before
It now fills itself up with dishes galore

Sometimes I go crazy… like… madly insane
The menopause faerie has gobbled my brain
If I shriek for no reason, they yell “Brewer’s Yeast!
Beef up on your bitch pills – take four at least.”

If filthy looks could kill – I’d be snug in jail
Having peace and quiet – I’d not be requesting bail
I wouldn’t have to think about what to cook or wear
Nor would I have to worry about doing my hair

But… now… thank goodness it is nearly time
To glug back a nice big fat glass of wine
I must have been a very wicked person in the past
By the way… how long does this friggin’ menopause last? 

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