I can’t believe I’ve only just noticed that menstruation, miscarriage and menopause all begin with M. I know you thought chocolate. Much more pleasant, I do agree. Interesting how nobody talks about any of them much. All to do with women’s bodies. I think I’m onto something here.
But not today, I Can’t Be Bothered – CBB. Have you heard of that? It is the polite version of CBA, I will leave you guessing on that one, till tomorrow or when I remember to tell you.
No. Today I want to tell you about what happened at the gym yesterday.
First you have to understand, if you are not a gym bunny, that you don’t mess with someone else’s floor space. NEVER. That means you cannot be a space invader. If you do by accident, because you are doing a high kick or moving forward or back, you must immediately apologise and then get back in your own spot. If you are a high level gym bunny, like me, then you wouldn’t of course do that, but a lot of “them” are average.
Yesterday something catastrophic happened. There was a jumping bean in the class. It must have happened by accident. I swear she must have been there by mistake, thinking it was a nightclub and I also swear she was still on something. She barely made contact with the ground. I have only seen Maasai’s jump higher. Worse she was knocking into people. ME INCLUDED.
Now, this is where the bloody peri-menopause comes in. Mornings are not great for me before 10am. I know I use menopause, peri-menopause and all those words interchangeably, but you know what I mean. I am waiting for the tablets to kick in, I have been up since 5am or earlier. Possibly 3am or 4am – waiting for it to be 5am. Worried I will sleep in and not have my daughter ready for her 6.15am pick up, or worse that I fail to collect the raft of other children, when it is my turn for school pick-up.
ANYWAY, back to the gym – the above was necessary for background to understand my mood.
Well, not quite back to the gym, I have a confession, I forgot to change my patch. I have a little alarm that goes off to tell me to change it every 3 days. Problem is, it went off when I was in the car the day before yesterday. I should carry them with me, but I don’t and of course I had completely forgotten by the time I got home. 24 hours later, holy crap – my patch. I only remembered because I was talking about a patchwork quilt. I need a better patch reminder back up system. My husband has filled my phone and computer with alarms and reminders and asked if a 5 minute warning before I had to take a pill was ok. I need a reminder about the reminder. I have confidence he will sort.
However, a missed patch is a depletion of hormones by 24 hours and that has an impact for 48 hours. I think you are probably getting the picture. I was already incredibly grumpy, fire breathing actually. You may also be thinking that I am dis-organised and stupid and bring many unnecessary mood swings on myself. I agree totally with you on that. I get on my own nerves so much.
While we are on the subject. I had also ran out of my darling xanax. They sound like something from star trek. They are better though than something green and yukky from outer space. I am coming off them, but slowly, they are given to lots of woman to “smooth” out “those” moods. I thought I had another packet in my bathroom drawer but didn’t. It was scary to see the reaction I had when I suddenly had less in my pm dose than I was supposed to and no morning tablet at 6am as usual. I had a cloth brain, ok I’m used to that, but it was much worse than usual. The withdrawal side effects of just a small, missed dose – half a gram, also meant I had no messages from my brain to my arms and legs and felt terribly faint.
NOW, all of you will know, that messages from brain to limbs is quite important for a good gym session; and for the rest of the day’s activities as well, for that matter; like driving and well things like sentence construction. The latter is rather less life threatening than the former.
So, you have the picture, as soon as we started class, I was struggling. Mind you, in my defence, I was struggling in my own space. Under “my” fan, which, though years of practise, I can shunt other women away from. Glaring and doing kicks rather close to them – controlled – are two of my methods.
Then SHE appeared. She elbowed me, I was instant aggression, “be careful” I threatened in a low voice and glared at her. She just giggled. I realised she was a complete nutter and off her trolley. She was also young and sweet and had no fucking clue about gym etiquette. She literally must have travelled from the back to the front of the gym space diagonally, getting in everyone’s way and utterly oblivious to it all. And, seemingly to the effects of what her own limbs were doing, they were completely independent to her HQ. (Brain).
This wasn’t just a case of an irksome beginner going left when everyone goes right, and coming dangerously close to you. Those kind of beginners know their place and stay at the back. No, she was different. She reminded me of the first wedding dance floor scene in “Four Weddings and a Funeral” when the handsome Scot says something like, “the first time I saw XX – can’t remember his name – dance, I feared lives would be lost”. Another image sprang to mind of another of my favourite films, Sliding Doors when lovely Gwyneth Paltrow’s ex boyfriend sees her in the pub dancing after a rowing match, and says ” Oh my god, she is in there having some sort of sponsored epileptic fit.”
Do you get the picture?
I was so happy though, because I didn’t slap her, push her or do anything to her, that I might have done pre-HRT. At water break, I made myself go and ask her if she was ok and smiled at her. Not a grimace, an actual smile. She had a sore leg and had pulled a muscle. Not surprising really as her legs were flicking up round her head, in moves I had never seen before. The teacher didn’t go near her and suggest she tone it down. Maybe he feared for his life.
I was looking for the good.
However, I couldn’t cope with my own body and its delayed lack of reactions, so I gave up after 45 minutes and left for a lie down.