This weekend my step daughter is having 3 girlfriends up, as the final part to her month long birthday celebration. I kid you not, it's been a month since the ACTUAL day. The kid takes after my own heart she does. For the party, they will all sleep out in the guest area. There's a little kitchen, living room, bathroom, and two bedrooms. It's connected to the house via the garage. It's like a little in law suite. I prepare for the onslaught by stocking the fridge out there with good healthy fruits and vegetables and the rest of the place with what one can only call toxic "eats". I don't think it's right to call the Gummy Worm, a "food" product. There's pop, juice, and TON of water bottles attached to pipe dreams that they will drink them.
I put a table cloth on the table then stock the table with nail polish remover, remover pens, driers, etc so they have a station to do each others nails. And finally, let's not forget the glow in the dark bracelets and Blurp containers. 14 year olds are still little girls at heart and the fart noises the Blurp makes will quietly, behind closed doors, crack them up. I did all this running around Thursday, well most of it, and the food prep this morning.
Thursday was the problem day. Let's focus there shall we?
I got up and headed to the gym as I normally do. About 3/4s of the way through my work out I felt the telltale sure signs of a hot flash. Heat, first and foremost, but almost followed by with cold flashes, or cold rushes in between, dizziness, light headiness, and nausea. I am describing it for those of you that don't suffer (f*ck you) or for those that do ('bout sums it up don't ya' think?). They are horrific and if you are a heavier girl like me well, they make you feel about as attractive as Honey Boo Boo's Momma June in her camouflage polyester panties on a hot July day down south when the air conditioning be broked. (spelling and grammar intentional).
I left the gym and sat in my car with the heated seat on and the air conditioner blasting. Yes you read that right. You see the hot flashes only come when I have PMS. PMS makes me cold all the time and my nipples, well I am surprised they haven't cut through the fabric in my clothes yet. When I crank the A/C it stops the sweating, then I freeze to death (enter nipples) so I put both on. It's like my body is Bi Polar too. I am cold, no I am hot. Cold, hot. Stop that, no you stop that. There was nothing pretty about what was going on in my car yesterday or why. Men get earrings, convertibles and a new girlfriend at midlife and we get this shit. And they wonder why we punish them by sharing aaaaaaaallllllllll about it.
Thankfully after the gym I only had to drag that ugly hot mess (being me) to Food Basics and Dollerama, both lower end stores in the low end nearby town where I know no one. I was told the only people that move to this small town are people who have family in the large jail or are working for the jail. Believe you me, you can tell the difference in the two. I was someone with family in the jail yesterday, dripping sweat in my soaked gym clothes. If it wasn't for the soft leather camel coloured purse and Cadillac truck, I would have been given store membership discounts FOR SURE. When I make fun of the local rednecks, trust me, it's as close as Honey Boo Boo as it gets in those stores some days. I cannot begin to tell you without getting very rude and that's just not in my nature. Just know, yesterday, I fit right in with the locals.
When I got home the cleaning lady was here, thank god. I couldn't have cleaned the floors yesterday if my life depended on it. I was melting on the spot and because of the PMS my back was screaming. I went over to the guest area to make beds and set the area up for the girls. I didn't stop basically from 8am to about 3pm. The hot flash would start to dissipate and the minute I got going too hard, WHAM back it came. It was the day from hell. That said the guest area looks great and is all ready for the girls tonight.
I needed to get most of it done and out of the way because we had tickets to see Chelsea Handler do her stand up show last night. The Casino she was at is an hour and a bit drive from us. We had planned on leaving the house around 5pm, drive the hour and a half, have dinner and get to the doors for 8pm. There is nothing worse than walking in on a comedian mid performance, "...and hey look at these two strolling in as I am talking". Then I jump on stage and things go down hill from there.
At around 330pm I decided to hit the showers (being the athlete that I am, I hit the showers like a football player). I had laid out 3 pairs of pants to try on, one shirt, several shoe options for fun, and a scarf or two. I knew the temperature was going to drop last night. I laid out 3 pairs of pants in hopes the first ones I wanted to wear would fit, and two other options just in case they didn't. I have lost a tiny amount of weight at the gym but quite a few inches so I had high hopes for my outfit. It's like playing fucking Russian Roulette with a night on the town for a heavier girl with low self esteem to not have an outfit picked out, tried on the night before and ready to go, it really is.
I got in the shower and got the hot flash under control. When I got out I felt almost normal. I did my makeup (really I did! eyes and everything) and hair. The hair dryer started to cause some heat so I stopped and put my hair back in a clip. It was too late, the dryer had triggered a hot flash and now I had to try on clothes. Damn it, there was not going to be a happy ending here. I get the flashes doing almost anything for the full time I have PMS. If I don't move, at all, sometimes I am okay, just sometimes. I say that cause I get them in my sleep and last time I checked I am just lying there. I kept going...I am a strong woman, I could do this. I can get dressed during a hot flash. I can do this. I can. This is where I am teaching you strength. We can do this, come along with me. We can. I am an inspiration. Do you know how hard it is to put on a fitted cotton bra shelved tank top on during a hot flash? Imagine a wet suit on a wet body. Enough said.
I zipped up my pants. You can too!
The two pairs of jeans I wanted to wear fit, I could zip them up! Yay. *drips sweat* But it wasn't pretty. Think sausage links. *heavy breath* They might be yummy, but they are not pretty. The last pair of pants were a better fit but they were a standard chunky monkey old lady pants. Stretch Capri, high waisted jeans. I mean come on. I was a walking stereotype in my ballet flats and Capris. Could I have been more original?
In a final fit of despair I ripped off my clothes and stood in the closet naked just getting air on my body. Then I calmly and efficiently put all the clothes away. I took my make up off, washed my face, put on a pair of cotton shorts and a slub, off the shoulder tee, and went and sat next to my husband on the couch. In his way, he turned to me and said, "What's happening, this doesn't look like night out clothes for you?" I said politely, (as only I CAN), "I am not fucking going. I can't stop the hot flashes. My back is killing me. And all my clothes just called me fat. Forget it, we aren't going".
Poor guy.
He sat and pondered this information for a minute and finally said, "Did they really call you fat, like out loud?".
"You're not funny" I said.
"No, I suppose right now I am not, but we are going whether you like it or not", he said.
"You can't make me", I said.
"No I can't but I want to go and I want you to come with me so I don't look like an idiot there by myself. Come on, let's go. I will burn those bad clothes for you", he said.
"Fine, but I am not happy about it", I said.
Under his breath he muttered, "And that's different how?"
"I heard that you son of a bitch", I said.
"I meant you to", he said.
And there it was, I started to laugh.
I went and threw on a maxi skirt knotted at one side to show off a funky pair of crotchet gladiator sandals and a big over sized see through sweater with a new drier aforementioned fitted bra shelved tank. When the husband got out of the shower I jumped all over him and said, "you're supposed to say I am beautiful". He immediately laughed at me and said, "maybe you would let me put on my glasses first so I could say it while actually seeing you". He really does make me laugh. Damn him. I really want to be miserable and he won't let me.
We drove most of the way and stopped and ate wings at a dive on the side of the highway. Just like we used to do when we dated. He loves wing joints because they remind him of dating me and our getting together. He gets all mushy when he speaks of the place we used to go. We talked for the hour we were there about anything and everything. We walked hand in hand through the crowd to get to our seats at the show. We watched Handler put on a hilarious, somewhat uncomfortable comedy act. She likes to make people squirm that girl does. The entire show my husband had his arm around my shoulder like he was proud to be with his beautiful wife.
After the show as we were driving home my husband says, "I never understood comedy shows, I just don't get it, I don't like them, never have."
And that my friends is why I love my husband. I hope that this story of love and marriage inspires you because it's what you should have, the best and the worst of this crazy thing called middle aged marriage.
If you learn anything, anything at all, from me, then you can say this too. You're welcome.
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