Dear Body,

Can we please just pull the trigger on this menopause thing and get it over with? The hot flashes are starting to really crank me off. It’s 65 degrees in the house and I’m sweating.  The boys are going to get frostbite pretty soon.  If this is your sick idea of revenge for thwarting all your chemical imbalances, you can just deal with it. I don’t have heartburn, I’m not barfing and I’m not freaking out 24/7 anymore so the new medicine is sticking around.

I just want you to know that you’ve been fucking with me for 41 and a half years, and you are done. I’m in charge of this ship now, biology, and things are going to change around here.  The weight is going down, the depression is mine to control, and despite your every attempt to convince me otherwise, my life is worth living and I’m not dead yet.  So you might as well get with the program. I’m not leaving you much choice.

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