I started coloring my hair at the age of 28 because I began to turn grey. My husband has always been the one who was/is practical and frugal, and he insisted that I didn't need to color my hair since it had only a few greys. He said he would tell me if I needed it. Well, I continued to be vain and colored it for quite a few years. Then one day, I started thinking about all the money I was spending on hair coloring services and thought that my real hair color really couldn't be that bad, even with a few greys. Heck, both my sisters have a few greys and it looks fine on them, so why not let my hair go natural. It didn't take long until the good old hubs said, "I think you need to keep coloring". Okay, so not only didn't I have a couple of greys, the grey was covering three quarters of my head. I still color to this very day...
It was one of the coldest nights of the year. While sleeping in my tank top and short pajamas, I was awakened for the fourth time that night with a hot flash and sweating profusely. I couldn't stand it anymore. I got up and opened the door to our balcony and stood out there for five minutes in the subzero weather, with the snow flying, in only the tank top and shorts. When I finally cooled off and came back to bed, I saw hubby huddled under three blankets shivering like crazy. He then curled up next to me to try to warm up. Yep, it happened again, another hot flash, not two minutes later, back outside again.
While driving home from having a pelvic ultra sound for a leaky bladder, (yes, another menopause symptom)I had to stop for a train. I am sure most, if not all of you, have had those ultra sounds where you have to drink gallons of water. Well, I was behind a long line of cars waiting for that train. The train kept coming and coming and coming and I kept waiting and waiting and waiting. I began to squirm and wiggle. Of course I turned the music up and sang with gusto trying to get my mind off my filling bladder. I danced in my seat. That train kept moving. I know you must think, I am making this up, but I am not, the train had to be 30 minutes long. I knew that even if I finally get to cross that railroad track, I still had about a ten minute drive home. Well, that's when I decided to pull into a little (I reiterate little) market right there at the train tracks. It was a dive to say the least. I walked in and begged the owner to let me use his restroom. Of course he said it is only for costumers. I promised to buy something when I was finished. I think after he saw me dancing around and my cries of please, please, please, he gave in and told me where it was. I had to go down the oldest set of stairs into an even older Michigan basement. It was dark and damp and cold and I thought I saw something move in the corner. (true story!!) When I entered the restroom, I started to cry. It was beyond my imagination, dirty. But because I had to go so bad, I closed my eyes and prayed that I would hit the toilet while hovering. When I finished, I ran up those stairs and out the door hollering THANK YOU SO MUCH. (The owner didn't even look me in the eye, now I know why he didn't want to let me use the restroom!) I couldn't buy anything from that place, ewwwww...shudder.
Menopause, what a trip!!!
