I'm not sure that most women know that the change is coming. Most women aren't even quite sure the change has arrived as they stand motionless in the eye of their own hurricane. Oddly enough, those dear men who accompany us through life and who we claim are oblivious to feminine needs are aware of the change the very minute our hormones start to do their wicked dance.
I admit I was oblivious. I knew something was not quite right. I thought I was sick. My brain was not functioning as normal. It's as if people were talking to me and I was absorbing the information through cotton candy. I felt slightly feverish. "Surely I must be coming down with something," I thought.
It can't be menopause. I'm not sweating profusely in bed. I had experienced a hot flash or two over the years but nothing significant. Menopause is supposed to be loaded with countless nights of changing nightgowns. I was in the clear - or so I thought.
"I believe you're peri-menopausal." Dr. O'Brien peered at me down his nose and through horn-rimmed reading glasses. That was a new one. "What's peri-menopause?" I asked. "Well that's the time before menopause when a woman starts to feel mild hormonal changes resulting in cloudy thinking and feelings of warmth accompanied by stress and irritability."
Still not convinced that I could have a pinky over the other side, I asked, "But how can you be sure that I'm peri-menopausal?" In professional knee-jerk authority he responded, "Do you know who Perry Como is?"
Perry Como - the American crooner, the hearthrob of the '50s and beyond. I remember Perry Como, the famous singer, the recording artist, the television star, that handsome hunk. I confirmed the many years I spent on earth when I responded, "Yes!"
And with that the deal was sealed.
I drove home realizing I reached the summit. I had that one pinky over the line. I tried to cheer myself up by humming a tune - a rendition of "Jingle Bells" that Perry Como made popular so many very short years ago.
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