I had a bout of too many flushes. When it's like that you feel as though you've got a mild fever and then a chill - alternating, all day. What with the intensity of it all it's hard to think about ordinary things like other people, like work, like domestic life.
I have this bad habit of announcing my flushes. 'Hot flush!' I declare, much as I would say 'kangaroo' if I saw one when we were driving or 'daja vu' when one of those memory rebounds hits in the middle of a conversation. I think I've got some weird pride bound up in having reached menopause.
'Hot flush!'
It could be a new salutation between women of a certain age, accompanied by some complex handshake or a wink. I can imagine a sisterhood of favours; I can imagine an old girl's network; I can imagine us usurping power.
Confession: I loosened my grip on my determination to love my menopause symptoms and started taking that red clover supplement. But... I am thinking that now and again I should stop taking the supplement and let it swamp me again. I could use the swamping as some sort of imminent/transcendental amusement.
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