It’s not a hot flush, it’s a power surge!

Goodness Bloomin’ grief, I feel so hot and sadly not in a ‘I’m sexy and I know it’ way! HRT in my case means Huge Red Tomato, my face is a putrid red that clashes with my delightful green cardigan. My ever so carefully applied makeup, slapped on first thing whilst simultaneously troubleshooting questions about the Vikings is currently sliding down my face, along with my composure. I’m seriously contemplating removing my clobber and laying, legs akimbo on the floor, Bridget Jones pants for all to see!

In a vain attempt to cool down I’ve resorted to waving a piece of paper around my face, my bingo wings flapping around in unison. ‘Are you okay Sophie?  You look very hot’  Just bugger off god dammit, can’t you see I’m going to spontaneously combust?!
I’m now receiving a few furtive glances, like I’m a Tracey Emin exhibit.  Just realised I am in fact waving my daughters sex ed leaflet, complete with images of boobs and arm pit hair in front of my long suffering colleagues. Suppose it could have been worse…at least it wasn’t a picture of mine!

I apply another pump of oestrogen, I’m applying it like it’s going out of fashion, it’s become as essential to me as a bar of chocolate. (or a G&T 😉 )

Overall, I feel a lot better having my ovaries switched off, ta muchly for my kids but now you can just F**k off ovaries and let me get my ever so delightful personality back. For some, the prospect of Menopause at thirty is daunting but for me I feel empowered, I have finally regained some control of my life.  I will no longer let this awful condition rob me of precious weeks, as it has over the years.  Yes, I still have a major attitude problem but at least I’m consistent.

With love xx

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