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Title: If the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.
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Blog Entry: ''If the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off''   Ok, to ease my own heavy guilt for my current actions and attitudes, I confess. Sometimes I rant and rave. But in my own defense, sometimes too, I just can't seem to help it. As it seems to me, the older I get the more passionately opinionated I get. So, in my book of life these days there seems only to be, right or wrong, good or bad, black or white, stupid or smart. And not any gray areas at all in between. Which leaves no room for debate these days when I inform my husband, my brother and my 5 dogs that if I go crazy, I'm taking all of them with me. Why? I'm currently experiencing the since time began, age old cross of womanhood to bear, female natured curse upon my shoulders, commonly referred to and best known as ''THE CHANGE OF LIFE''. As I plunge towards my Golden Years feet and mouth first, riding a physically, mentally, emotionally charged roller coaster that I neither chose or enjoy one dang bit, I've discovered that I've had fun before, and this menopausal thing ain't it. First there's the legendary hot flashes. One minute your a-ok normal, but the very next minute you are quite sure that you'll be the next victim of human combustion as your body temperature reaches 110 degrees. Suddenly you are soaking wet from head to toe looking like contestant number 3 in a wet tee shirt contest at Bubba's Honky Tonk and Grill come Saturday night. Attractive and appealing maybe at 20-25 years old, but ''debateable viewing enjoyment''  at my current 56 years old. And call me vain or simply fickle, but the ole sweat hog feeling/appearence does nothing to improve my current hormonal swings. I sure don't feel like just breaking out into a song or dance thank you, nope, more like snarling and nipping at heels. It sucks. Then along comes the dreaded night sweats. For those unfamiliar with the term, that's where you wake up soaking wet in the wee hours of the night from a deep sleep and your first conscious thought is that you have wet the bed. Because not only are you soaking wet, but so are the sheets, the top blanket, both of your pillows, and the 2 Chihuahua's that sleep with me. Not the best way to wake up either, having to change the sheets in the middle of the night, husband blurry eyed , half asleep and waiting for me to finish, chihuahua's giving me the stink eye as they think I'm not properly paper trained and another stack of laundry to do to start my morning. It's ruining my normally sweet and loving disposition! Let alone my sleep pattern. It too, sucks. Emotionally I find myself reduced to hanging onto all logic and sanity as I know it by one, fine, time worn thin nerve. And if I slip just a little on that hold on reality, I find myself flipping from sweet little Shirley Temple into dog skinning Cruella DeVille in the span of a solitary heart beat. Yep, on a bad hormone day I can send husband and little brother beating feet to the work shop and all dogs running for the safety of their blankets, and all by simply turning to look at them with one thin red eyebrow arched high. They are all quickly learning the self surviving tips of how to handle a hormonal woman. I call it ''Feet don't fail me now''. When they run in fear, I feel better....Sick, but true. ''It will pass'' my mother often tells me. ''Look at me, I've gotten over it'' she'll say time and time again. Thats where really deep depression comes in and floors me. 'Cause Great...They call her ''Mean Jean the Buzzard Queen'' for a reason...she has a mouth the size of, or maybe even greater than the entire state of Texas, a hot blooded Irish temper held second to only Satan himself and she's usually grumpy. Geez...Something to look forward too it's not. So tonight I'm trying really hard to adjust my faltering good natured ways and positive attitude back to normal. I'm striving hourly and quite wholeheartedly to remain upbeat, happy go lucky and calm, but just don't cross me and we'll all be fine! Hormone therapy?...Been there, done that...Cancer and heart threats loom. Herbs?....Didn't work for this ole doll and some things I just won't put in my mouth twice. Solution?....Recognize it, face it, deal with it. The bottom line? I'm a 56 year old, red headed Irish woman, who's trying to cut sugar out of her diet, is kicking Joe Camel to the curb as I've supported his life style long enough and all the while going thru this CHANGE OF LIFE. Life sucks sometimes. But then... if the world didn't suck, we'd all fall off.