Around Menopause

Around Menopause

I’m a bit worried that I smell again,

I sniff my pits, I sniff my clothes,

I thought I’d left this behind

when I crawled out of the primordial slime

formerely known as the teenage years,

along with ridiculous tears flooding my body out of nowhere,

and pimples,

which now they have the audacity to appear,

accompanied by wrinkles,

wrinkles and pimples, strolling arm in arm,

what a combination.

And don’t get me started

on a slowing down metabolism

and a shrinking brain.

I am melting,

melting,

melting.

Really, what more could a girl wish for?

Not a girl, a woman-

a maiden,

a mother,

a crone.

Then of course, there’s the wading

through the fog and the rage and the oops what was the word

for heated bread?

And where did mi abyliti too spel go?

And what did I come into this room for?

And didn’t I used to know that?

Silly Mummy.

And we smile.

And we laugh.

But mine’s on the verge of hysterical,

threating to topple over into tears, like a toddler.

Regression in all the worst ways,

progression in the form of decay,

like a tree trunk, still standing,

a home for bugs, creepy crawlies

living in me, gnawing at my core.

But I pull my socks up,

put on my big girl pants and

put my best foot forward,

because that’s what we do,

right?