Dear Journal,
My brother called from Washington today. He and Magenta =shudder= set the date. I told him that the devil had some good deals, and if he wanted to sell his soul, he should really make sure he’s getting his money’s worth.
Anyhoo, right after I got off the phone with him, I started having hot flashes. At first I thought it was because I was so mad at my brother, but then I realized it was a sign of my deteriorating health! So I checked the roommate’s health book (she called about that the other day, by the way), and I came to the startling conclusion …
I’m suffering from menopause.
No, seriously. Hot flashes are one of the leading signs of menopause. That and lack of sexual interest (Although there’s plenty of interest on MY part… ahem). Another sign is being unsuccessful at getting pregnant for more than a year (You know, I’ve been trying and trying to think about getting pregnant, but the whole no-sex thing is making this unsuccessful).
Also, there’s this thing called premature menopause, which fits me perfectly (I always knew I was mature for my age, but sheesh!). Now this is possible if one’s mother or sister has experienced premature menopause (which I think is fact, because my sister has the worst kind of mood swings, and I’m pretty sure my Mom hasn’t had sex since 1992 … she is the worst kind of prude … shriveled and … wait, that’s a prune. What’s a prude? Oh well, the word still applies).
So, because of my menopause, I get to look forward to all those fun, old-people diseases. Like osteoporosis, tooth decay, ovarian cancer and smelling like talcum powder (I know that last one isn’t a disease, but really, someone should do something about it).
So now I have to schedule to have my blood tested so I can prove to my mother that I have premature menopause, and that I got it from her, and how it’s all her fault that I’ll never give her any grandchildren, and she should really tell my brother not to marry Magenta =shudder= to compensate for it.
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