Well, as if the feeling of ‘quietly slipping into insanity’ is not bad enough: a string of sleepless nights caused by ‘the night sweats’ does not help the mood or the disposition…
No wonder menopausal women are ever so cranky.
Just when the window of opportunity opens, and you are heading off to the land of nod, a prickly sensation takes over. You heat up to boiling point. You cast aside the blankets and throw your leg over the side of the bed waving it about in frustration. You throw your leg with such force it’s a wonder you haven’t ended up on the floor!
You fumble in the dark and search for that towel, the one you put by the bed (just in case). Then you begin to perspire, not just beads of sweat on your forehead, nay, buckets of sweat, from head to toe.
Even in between your fingers. You check to see if your fingers are webbed. You know, like a duck.
After all, you spend so much time wet, you might have to start swimming in the pond you are creating…
Yes, swimming. You know, like the duck. You wish the water would roll off you, as it does off the duck’s back, but no such luck. Within seconds, your nightie is drenched, your hair is soaked and you are lying in a puddle!
I often wondered why women of a certain age opted to have their hair cut so short, now I know why.
You get up to dry off and change clothes. Redressed and ready to continue your slumber, there is a pressing need to go to the loo…. again.
Half-asleep, you fumble your way to the toilet and attempt to sit on the toilet seat, but, because you are so sweaty, you slip right off, banging your head on the ceramic cistern mid-slip. Now you’re really awake! This happens up to four times a night, no wonder you are so tired.
Plus… Now there is all that extra washing. All the extra towels needed to sop up all the sweat.
Sweaty nighties. Sweaty sheets.
In the morning, when you drag yourself out of bed to prepare for the day, the hot flushes kick in. Undaunted you soldier on. You have had your shower, managed to find something to wear and you’re ready to go. Bingo! Another hot flush.
The sweat trickles down your neck, spreads across your chest and drips down the middle of your back. Your armpits spew a torrent of water.
If you bothered with makeup, it has all gone now because you have had to sop up the perspiration on your face with the nearest cloth you can find. Grrrrr…more washing.
As for the hair, well no wonder it’s kept short or worn up, thank God the ‘stringy’ look is in vogue!
No point showering again, the hot flush gives repeat performances – an encore is inevitable whatever you do.
My mother once told me that women never sweat. She had a saying: “Horses sweat, men perspire and women glow!”
Well, let me tell you, during these episodes I certainly glow. I glow so brightly I could be the bloody beacon that brings the ships through a storm!
When you think there is a moment’s respite from the flushing, ‘glowing’ you whack on some more deodorant, rush out the door and hope to hell that you won’t make someone faint from the stench of your body odour. All of a sudden, you recognise that you are developing that old lady smell.
You know the one.
The one that makes you lean back and purse your lips when you are behind the little old couple in the queue at the supermarket, only now it’s you!
Where’s the perfume? Will it ever end?
Tell us, did you go through the same thing?
Love this extract? It was taken from Rita Wagner’s very funny book ‘Menopause Makes Mummy Mental’ which you can purchase here.