Silent All These Years (Shame on Me?)

care to caption this?

care to caption this?

Talking about personal, taboo or controversial subjects gives me the willies.  Topics include general embarrassing life moments, bodily functions, private family business, sex, abortion, gay marriage, Albert Camus’ writing, Joe Biden’s IQ, Cuban tourism, the death sentence, the meaning of life, MARTA, or how to pronounce Regina, Saskatchewan.

Some of it is that I don’t like the inevitable confrontation that arises from these topics.  The rest is my Catholic upbringing.  Oh wait, I wasn’t raised Catholic.  Maybe it’s my Mid-Western upbringing?  Okay, so it’s just that I don’t like confrontation.  Oh, and then there are my shame issues.  Years of therapy helped but pretty much just smeared my problems on the white board of life rather than erase them.

Anyway, so leave it to the world to put a bunch of these issues right in my face this week.  Supreme Court gay marriage decisions, Texas abortion clinic filibusters, the historical remarks of Paula Dee (yes, let’s leave the “n” out of her name), and the above menstruation advertisement have preheated my internal oven to cake-baking temperatures.  Then ice that cake with the peri-menipausal symptoms I’ve been enduring for the past six weeks, and I’ve got myself what you might call a full plate…including the dessert.  (p.s. wanna know an easy way to remember how to spell dessert?  It’s twice as good as a desert, so it’s got two s’s- thanks mom!)

So as usual let’s start with me, since I am, after all, the star of this blog.  Forget about the fact that I can now move to any one of 12 states or the District of Columbia to get married and have my 16 year relationship fully recognized by our good gub’ment.  And forget about the fact that I may not have chosen an abortion back in the day but would have been eternally thankful that a clinic was available to me had I determined that was what was best for me. Forget about all of that.  The important thing is that this week will go down in history because it’s the first time I’m admitting to symptoms of menopause.  I swore I would never be one of those women who would bitch and w(h)ine about hot flashes.  But unfortunately, they became apparent to the observer’s naked eye.  I could no longer cover up the drenched shirt fact that I was having night sweats, day sweats, happy hour sweats, early evening sweats, late afternoon sweats, post-brunch sweats, television watching sweats, fly fishing sweats, pre-yoga sweats, and during yoga sweats (although I can’t really tell the difference between these and my normal yoga sweats).  

Since I was a teenager, I’ve been longing for the lady’s holiday to end; now I’m longing for it to come back.  How else do I take three days off from yoga without an out of town excuse?

Enough said.  This is way more embarrassing sharing than I’m used to.

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7 thoughts on “Silent All These Years (Shame on Me?)

  1. While we’re learning tricks to remember things … anyone want to know how to remember the correct way to set a table?

    • Yes please because Doc B. doesn’t listen to my way! Mine is too complicated. Something like this: left and fork have the same number of letters. Napkin has a K in it so it goes on the left with the fork that also has a K in it. Then blade, knife and spoon have the same number of letters as right. so the right side, you go alphabetically with blade of knife (facing in) and then the spoon. What say you mom?!

      • Guess my reply is not as complicated but not as thorough as yours. To the left (4 letters) of the plate goes the fork (four letters). To the right (5 letters) go the knife & spoon (5 letters each). I assumed everyone knows that the napkin goes with the fork and that the knife blade should be turned in so you slash yourself with it and not the person sitting to your right :). And, we rarely dine where there is silverware above the plate so look in an etiquette book if you’re setting a really fancy table. I’ll never forget the time a waiter told me I was eating my soup with the dessert spoon. How embarrassing for a former home economics teacher! xoxoxo Mom

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