This might be uncomfortable to hear but, you used to be so, I don’t know, normal.
For 30 years you’d drop by once a month right on time, like a perfect little friend.
Now you’re all, “I’ll just show up whenever the hell I want.” and “I’m gonna move to menopause or maybe I won’t.”
You don’t care that the ratty underwear I save just for you sit in the drawer waiting patiently until day 29. Noooo.
It’s suddenly become acceptable for you to drop in unannounced, while I am wearing my new Victoria’s Secret underwear, the cute ones that cost so much for so little.
Instead of looking all sexy and pretty, now they just look dingy and old.
It doesn’t bother you that I purposely scheduled my yearly pap around your visit and it takes forever to get rescheduled.
It makes no difference to you if I’m not home and have no protection with me.
Always close by, watching, waiting until I least suspect it.
This habit of just coming and going whenever you please really isn’t working for me. You’re here one day, disappear for two, and then show up the next day acting like you never left.
You once were so predictable, like relatives at Christmas – 3 or 4 days of hanging around being mildly irritating and then quietly go back where you came from until next time.
Now you’re like the weather in New England.
Partly sunny, with a strong chance of severe thunderstorms. Flooding heavy at times.
Potential wind gusts up to 80 miles an hour. Harsh blizzard-like conditions may be possible in our area with frigid temperatures likely.
Your only advance warning system is like a tornado siren, with your blinding headache accompanied by kaleidoscopic tunnel vision.
Since you also like to play games with my memory, I don’t always realize it’s your fault until it won’t go away, no matter what I do.
After years of always being cold, it is such a welcome change to spend night after night drenched in sweat.
Not merely warm and cozy, nope – clothes-soaking, sheet-staining, hair-wetting drenched. It just makes me oh, so morning fresh.
It’s a good thing our bedroom, has no window, (insert muttering). Speaking of bed, whether you’re visiting or not you’re the biggest cock-block I know.
It might be best for everyone if you leave for good. Besides, you know that BFF saying about guests who stay too long.
No, not Best Friends Forever. Ben Fucking Franklin. Yes, I said it. No, I won’t apologize, you know it’s true. It smells.
You can take with you the cramps, aching thighs and back, diarrhea, and general overall bitchiness, they’re just too much for me to take care of anymore.
They are yours with my blessing.
Though, I’d really like you to leave behind my mind and my sense of humor.
I know you borrowed them frequently, but I had those before we got together and they were never really your style anyway.
With a husband and a family, I’ve just been too busy for you.
If tying my tubes eight years ago wasn’t enough of a clue that you really aren’t needed anymore, I don’t know what else to say.
My oldest son is entering puberty, and the others aren’t far behind. Grandma’s care is requiring more and more time with no chance of slowing down.
My family appreciates how long you’ve hung on, really.
We wouldn’t be where we are without you. We all thought it would be a year or two of transition. It’s nice to see not everybody gives up so quickly.
These last 6 or 7 years have been special, we had a good run.
We had some good times though, you and me, or at least I think we did. Like, remember the time you stayed away for like a year when my kids were born. Three times even.
Good times. It’ll be awkward at first. For the best really, but you need to go now…seriously.
P.S. Unfortunately, I think you’ll be back, friggin’ stalker.
For more posts on other hormonal woes…