Honestly, one of the worst things about ageing is the fact that almost overnight your body stops being a trusted friend and morphs into some weird, unreliable enemy bent on catching you unawares. Take my periods (please, take them now!) Having not had one for three months I was beginning to come to terms with the menopause and onset of true cronedom, and amazingly, even beginning to welcome the freedom! But last night the flaming floodgates opened in the wee small hours and it's like I'm having a year's worth all at once.
My poor, poor other half. He went to bed innocent as a lamb and woke up like a lamb led to slaughter, covered head to toe in my blood! (drenched I tell you DRENCHED). He threw back the duvet and sat up in complete shock as he saw the carnage, thinking he'd severed an artery or something! He really thought it was him bleeding for a moment and all hell broke loose as he leapt from the bed screaming, only to uncover the real cause of the outpour, much to my shame and utter humiliation. It was like Nightmare on Elm Street meets the Chainsaw Massacre, and on our new white bed linen too. HOW does he put up with me? Not only that, today is our anniversary - what a present - brown clots sticking to him and all!
I apologise for the gory picture, but one of the reasons Bags and I keep coming back to blog on The Crone is that we feel the need to share our pain with other crones, and to warn younger women of what lies ahead. Hah! You younger women may laugh as you unwrap your 'light flow' tampons. It'll never happen to me, you may think as you mark a cross in your diary and plan your holiday around your periods. But let me tell you. I was once like you. My menses were as reliable as clockwork and as light as a drizzle. Now I'm sitting here with my legs crossed wearing tena-lady and an industrial-size tampon and hoping for the best!
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