This isn’t over. Me and this… menopause… perimenopause… just o’ pause.
I just went to the grocery store and, while standing over the pre-baked lemon-herbed chickens, I had this overwhelming urge to rip my Rock & Republic jeans off. Like right in the front of the chubby-cheeked children still in their church clothes begging their mom’s for peanut M&Ms. I didn’t care who would see my junk. My knees were sweating. My moles were sweating. My right toenail was sweating.
Before I got naked, I quickly traversed to the Ben n Jerry’s section and stuck my head in the cooler pretending to search for a tub of Chunky Monkey. Not sure I fooled anyone, no one takes sixteen minutes to search for ice cream do they? Read more