The Musings of Manic Menopause Millie Vol. I | Issue 1

“Menopause. A pause while you reconsider men.” — Margaret Atwood

Brace yourself and get ready for the approaching chaos!

Y’all! Let me tell you how Manic Menopause Millie chose violence today.

I took off from work today because my perimenopausal rage and anxiety that climbs higher with each day, are not a good fit right now and I needed a timeout. So, I didn’t get up until 12:15 pm, after not going to sleep until almost 4 am…that’s a whole other story.

Anyway, me and the Mister go to the pharmacy like the old people we are. We get home with my attitude intact. It was an effing miracle!

I spoke too soon because I go to gather laundry and he is sitting on the couch with a box of black of RIT. HUNNAY! I just stood there with laundry in my arms like a deer caught in headlights. My right eye started twitching. I started to gather the counsel of multiple ladies in my brain…ya know…because I’m EVERY woman, literally and figuratively, to make some a good choice and a wise decision.

Unforunately it was too late. They are all running around waving their arms like lunatics and trying to get down this very dark hall with a huge, ominous black door with low growling coming from it. They get to the door and they form a barricade to keep whatever is behind the door from getting out. Loud booms fill the air, the door shakes and rattles, the women start crying and calling on all of the dieties and ancestors. The chaos is surreal! WTF is happening?!?

As quickly as the chaos began, it ended and got oddly quiet. The ladies thought their cries for help had been answered. But, alas, that would be too easy.

A low rumble begins to build and the door busted open throwing the ladies everywhere. Some even got squashed by the door and their heads trampled. This terrifying crazy beast is full throttle running to take her seat on the throne.

When she gets there, she gathers herself gracefully with fire behind her eyes and calmly (if you even believe that at this point ) offers to the Mister for him to use a bucket, the kitchen sink, or anything other than dabbing black dye on his barely faded black hate whilst perched upon my couch with gloves on that are too little with the cap off the bottle whilst again trying to tell her that he’s got it, and he won’t spill it.

Y’all! We are trying to talk her down. One of the women was able to hide in a nook and not take too much of the brunt from the force of the beast. She hobbled with one functional leg to get to the throne; all the while crying and begging for the beast to stand down.

Nope, she choose violence and said calmly, yet kurtly that “if you and your recessive chromosomes get black dye all over my couch, I’m going to lose my ”. Without breathing, she walks to the laundry while continuing to speak to Mister: “I wouldn’t talk to you like you’re remedial if you didn’t do remedial things.”

And then the ladies of the land were happy, and begin rebuilding their grace while they now mostly have migraines, body aches and bruises, and a diabolical heavy onset of exhaustion.

So…guess who’s sitting on the couch not doing laundry?!? It is the beast…Manic Menopause Millie. Disrespectfully, leave me TF alone for the rest of the day.

How are y’all doing?

Is perimenopause ruining your life?

Reach out to us, and we can help: cpatterson@vivianmaryllc.com

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