This is not a menopause moment in a brain freeze sort of sense, but only a woman of a certain age could carry off such an episode with such aplomb. Here's what happened to my patient Donna:
She arrived at the store early; the parking lot was virtually empty. The proprietor of the small store stood at the door, enjoying the unseasonably warm day. He flashed her a welcoming smile as she got out of the car and began to walk across the lot.
Donna is working on weight loss but not yet ready to buy new pants, so she pulled on a baggy old pair for this errand run. Alas, halfway to the store, the stretched-out sweats dropped to her ankles. The store owner quickly looked away, but darned if Donna didn't reach down, hitch up her britches, and tuck them into her underwear under her shirt. Then...she proceeded into the store to conduct her business; after all, who's got time to do these chores twice?
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Buy this woman a cold Flat Tire beer!
Cil writes about a trio of moments in celebration of one of those half-century+ birthdays:
First we welcomed a cold front. Overjoyed to have open windows again, it was dismaying for me to see the return of my night sweats.The bedroom thermometer said 64, a cold breeze wafted in, and I was lying there in bed with no covers on, sweating profusely. Ah, what a bittersweet moment.
Then I went to work, left school at the end of the day, and puzzled over the fact that my car keys could not be found in my purse, my pockets, my book bag. No, I thought to myself, I couldn't have done it. But I had. I found the keys in my ignition.
My hat trick concluded yesterday. You probably don't have to be menopausal to be clueless enough to get in a car and drive it several blocks before realizing you have a flat tire. But to have this happen on your 54th birthday just seems so poetic.
First we welcomed a cold front. Overjoyed to have open windows again, it was dismaying for me to see the return of my night sweats.The bedroom thermometer said 64, a cold breeze wafted in, and I was lying there in bed with no covers on, sweating profusely. Ah, what a bittersweet moment.
Then I went to work, left school at the end of the day, and puzzled over the fact that my car keys could not be found in my purse, my pockets, my book bag. No, I thought to myself, I couldn't have done it. But I had. I found the keys in my ignition.
My hat trick concluded yesterday. You probably don't have to be menopausal to be clueless enough to get in a car and drive it several blocks before realizing you have a flat tire. But to have this happen on your 54th birthday just seems so poetic.
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