I had a dream about network stuff last night. In the dream I understood what was happening and how to fix/manage it. In the daylight – not so much.
Men: You probably want to stop reading. Right now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
I’m lucky to be here. I’m about the same age now as my mother was when I started to give her a really hard time. Knowing what I know now … it’s a miracle I survived. I do what I can to contain the snarls and homicidal urges, but if I had someone to take it out on? Well, let’s just say that I would have a starring role on their blog.
Luckily, I know what my problem is and when to expect it – most of the time. That gives me a small window to be proactive. I use my happy pills (valerian root) to smooth out my raging emotions and no one is the worse for wear. Usually.
But that leaves out the whole physical part. Boys, I told you to stop reading three paragraphs ago. I’m not responsible for your queasy stomach or your nightmares.
Physically – let’s just say I’m not 30 anymore. The older you get, the more issues you can encounter on a rotating 30-day basis. Only, it’s really more like 21 – 25 days. Just like you have to pee more often, apparently you get to have your period more often, too.
Which wouldn’t even be all that bad – except it doesn’t have a predictable pattern anymore. It’s all or nothing. And by ‘all’ I mean … SuperPlus Tampax work for than 2 hours maximum – and that’s if you’re lucky. To compensate, you have to go back to Super Maxi pads, which makes you feel like you’re 12 again – only messier. Even that only buys another 30 minutes max, if you’ll pardon that pun.
Young girls laugh at the idea of “period panties” – I know I did. In my forties, I embrace the idea. It’s just easier to have panties that are already ruined – that way, you have one less thing to cry about. I had to run a few errands today and I was gone for less than two hours. That was all it took to not only ruin the panties, but stain my jeans. So I changed clothes and went to school.
At the first break, I care of business and at the second break (90 minutes later) just to be safe. An hour after that, I realized I had a problem. My problem was compounded by the fact that my class is 90% men. I waited until the instructor turned his back, then I grabbed my purse and kind of slunk out the door, using my purse as a shield, so that only the man behind me could see anything – assuming he had been looking, which he wasn’t. Thank God for small favors.
When I got to the bathroom, my worst junior high school fears were realized: I had blood stains on my jeans. FOR THE SECOND TIME IN ONE DAY. I was wearing a jacket, but I couldn’t take it off and tie the arms around my waist because that really would have called attention to it. I pulled my t-shirt down as far as I could and slunk back into the classroom. Then I grabbed my book bag and tried to sneak out. Two men walked out in front of me and I knew that if I stayed behind them, the rest of the class would come out behind me … and they could all be looking at my blood-stained ass. So I practically ran past the two guys … all the way down the hall … down another hall … out the door … to my car …and threw myself into my car for the drive home.
I really thought it was enough to have 2 pads and 3 SuperPlus tampons with me – but I guess I’m going to have to add a full change of clothes.
I’m going to need a bigger purse.