Elvis Has Left the Building

     The last time I went to my doctor, I asked him about all of my menopause symptoms, to be more direct, how to manage them.  My doctor told me I wasn't in menopause yet, but what I was experiencing was merely perimenopause.  I told him "I didn't care if it was Mary Poppins Menopause, a spoonful of sugar wasn't helping me"!  He told me 52 is the golden age...for what I don't know, but apparently at 52 something magical is supposed to happen.

     Magical for me would be no longer experiencing hot flashes, night sweats,   mood swings, as well as uncontrollable bouts of crying.  I have been experiencing these since I turned 40, and I have had enough!

     I was 12 years old when I began my period, menses, the curse, whatever you want to call it.  My mom used to say Aunt Flow is coming to visit, one of my friends used to say the Red Coats are coming, I used to say Elvis has made another appearance.  Elvis Presley died the summer I came of age, and once a month we would all hear a story about an Elvis sighting, so I used to say he was alive and well, wreaking havoc, every 28 days!

     While in Elementary School, the girls between 8 and 10 years old were taken to a room, to watch a movie.  Isn't it Wonderful Being a Woman. I can remember watching it for 3 years, our teachers never explained what it was about, and it was way over my head.  All I got out of it was this Man, named, Stration would visit us every month, and take us swimming, bike riding, and sometimes he would make us cry.  I remember watching a cartoon of what looked like a tadpole swimming up a tube and turning into a blob.  This, is what I and 100 other girls understood.  We talked at recess about it, and we all decided we were not going to let this strange man take us anywhere!  This was our knowledge of what was to come.

     When it was my turn, I didn't know what was happening.   I came home from school for lunch and noticed a little stain on my panties.  Deciding I must not have wiped very well, I changed them, washed them out and hung them downstairs to dry.  When I returned home later in the day, I noticed the same thing.  I thought I was loosing control of my bowels and I needed to be more careful!  My mom, of course, knew better.  She explained what was happening to me and she said I was menstruating.   "Wait, what"?  That movie from years ago began to rewind on my head.  You mean there's no man coming to take me swimming and bike riding and make me cry sometimes"?  I asked my mom.  She looked at me and laughed "No, honey" She said, "It's not a man, it's called Menstruation" .  I thought I had dodged a bullet...until I had to wear a belt with a sanitary napkin attached!

     My mom helped me into this thing, it was uncomfortable and I felt like I was wearing a diaper.  I am sure I was crying, beginning to cramp, hating this whole experience and wanting it to be over.  My mom explained, once again, that I would experience this every 28 days.  "You mean I have to do this again"!  Laughing, she shook her head yes, "For the next 40 years"!  I decided I would rather go bike riding and swimming with that man, that would sometimes make me cry!  

     I made it through my first cycle, hating every minute of it, I couldn't swim, no matter what that movie said!  I was grumpy,  I had strange cramps and 2 of my brothers knew what was happening to me and we're teasing me, my twin brother was oblivious and wanted to know what they knew.  It was a circus and I felt like the lion that wanted to bite the lion tamers head off!

     By the next year, a new product was on the market,  Stay free Maxi Pads.  I thought I had died and went to Period Heaven!   No more belts, that felt like a G -string, which  is probably why women my age hate thongs, because they remind them of belted sanitary napkins they had to wear!  

     My mom had placed the new box of Stay free stick on pads on my bed.  I was thrilled,  with maxi pads...that says a lot!  I looked at this new box, who can forget that picture of the girl with long dark hair, in a frilly pink dress, walking along the beach with the waves rolling in?  That picture is forever burned in my memory.  I tore open the box, it was like Christmas for me!  Grabbed out a pad, ran to the bathroom, ripped off the piece of protective covering and stuck on the pad.  Easy peasy,  however, when I first stood up, it was not pleasant...at all.  It was pulling on everything in my nether regions.  I walked out of the bathroom, into the kitchen.  My mom was in the process of making dinner, she turned around to watch me do the craziest walk toward her.  I can only describe it as a cross between the Pee Pee dance, and Johnny Depp's character,    Jack Sparrow in the Pirate of the Caribbean movies.  I was a sight.  I can only imagine how my face looked because my mom burst out laughing at the sight of me.  "What on earth is wrong with you"? she asked me through her tears, she was laughing so hard she was crying.   "This stupid pad is pulling on everything every time I walk" !  I managed to grimace. "Did you read the directions"? she asked me, trying to stifle her laughter. " Directions?  No, I don't need to read them, I'm 13 mom!  I think I know how pads work"!  I was extremely indignant as well as uncomfortable.   Let me say here and now, at 13, you may feel you know everything, you don't!   Neither did I!  I learned that day, you don't stick the pad to yourself, in fact, they are stuck to the inside of your panties.  My aha moment came too late for me.   Not being able to contain herself, my mom broke out into hysterical bouts of laughter once more.  I had to once again, carefully sashay myself into the bathroom, and remove this device of torture from my body.  I believe I was ahead of my times in 1977, I gave myself a Reverse Brazilian!  
     My scream was heard throughout the house,  my dad came running, as did my brothers.   Everyone wanted to know what was wrong with me.  One look at my mom, told everyone I was fine, just stupid.  I opened up the bathroom door, and tried to walk out nonchalant, but I was still suffering the effects from my hair extraction, so I was walking very carefully.
     I laugh about it now, and it always brings gales of laughter when my friends and I get together and talk about how smart we thought we were!
     So, here I am, at this supposed magical age,  no visit from Elvis in almost a year.  I think I can say with confidence, Elvis has left the building!