But, it makes me tired and cranky.
So, there's that!
Anyway, I'm officially diagnosed as being in menopause. AGAIN.
First time was on the tamoxifen. Let's give Tamoxifen a big middle finger!
Now, Mama Nature has taken over, has checked out my cavity of warfare and destruction via Western Medicine, and has decided it's time to shut down some operations. Like, ability to make another kiddo. Because, quite frankly, who wants to get pregnant when they're condemned to a lifetime of cancer and lymphedema? I babysat an infant with hubs a while back, and I had to put him down quite often because of my arm. Not because of him - he is a soft, sweet smelling cuddle bug. How would I cope with pregnancy? Sleeping less than usual? Changing poopie things, etc? Yeah... no. Even if I were wealthy and could hire a full time nanny? No. It's unfair. Not only because I can't really keep up with a baby and life, but because I could drop dead during their Kindergarten Graduation. Seems selfish, no? Also, I'm done having kids, and have known that since she was 3. She's in high school. Yeah. Done.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kid. Like crazy. Also, she makes me crazy sometimes. That never overshadows my undying love and unconditional cravings to just smoosh her beautiful face up and tell her that she can drop her anxiety, her insecurity, her fears. The world is a crazy place, and she's brilliant and shall overcome the BS of society. I hope.
Anyway, it's been very busy. My body has been rebelling in a million ways. Between the hot flashes, the weird dryness (my skin etc. are just dust right now, and I'm assuming my bones are packing their bags to join it, as well - remember when I had osteoporosis? Dear Jebus, I can't handle that kind of excruciating pain again, but I hope it will be more gradual this time) Actually, this has been a little more tolerable - I guess because I didn't pop a pill every day that basically turned off my woman switch. But still - I'm too young for this crap. My white hairs are having babies. My skin is changing. People still say I look 15 years younger than I am, but dang. I do have days where I think I look exactly my age. Maybe, if I make it to 50 (my short term goal - yippee!) I'll treat myself to a facelift. Except I don't want elective surgery. After all of this? Zoinks.
I googled "plastic surgery gone wrong" and decided to not post a photo. Why? I'm not in the biz of making fun of people. But, I would most likely end up looking like a stretched out piece of cold cut. Eh.
As I think more, I think it might be nice to make it to the age of crows feet. No, I don't want them, but it's still a goal to reach! Let's hope the coconut oil I use on my skin keeps them waiting in the wings a bit longer - which will give me more time (in my fantasy world clock) to get there! When do folks get those things, typically? I'm addicted to sunglasses, so that's on my side. But, I like laughing. Which keeps me feeling young, but, the wrinkles... ugh. *note to self - try laughing without your eyes*
Smiling, sans eyes.
Dagnabbit. Foiled again.
