Goddamit! Now I have to start again

If you have been following this blog (and quite frankly, why wouldn't you?), you would know that I last had a period in around April of 2012.

I have been getting quite excited (and by excited I mean vaguely depressed) at the approaching 12 month point which would apparently mark the moment I truly entered The Big M.  Supposedly going 12 months without a period is the milestone you need to reach in order to truly claim membership to Club Menopause.

So there I was with only a few months to go when what should happen yesterday? A period arrives.  Well hello there, red stranger! I remember you and I never thought I'd see you again.  But here you are, bigger and bloodier than ever.

It's like getting the band back together.  All the old crew are here: the bloating, the scraped-out-with-a-spatula-from-the-inside feeling, the sudden twinges of pain, and of course the blood.  Copious amounts of it.

Lucky I bought two packets of Poise pads last week.  Except that I bought them because I've been coughing continuously since New Year's Day after a bout of bronchitis (yes, I've been to the doctor, he says it will just run its course, thanks Mum) and my poor pelvic floor just can't cope and lets me know in no uncertain terms...let us speak no more about that other than to say that I'm way too young and fabulous to be smelling of wee just yet.  I'll save that particular delight for my extreme old age if you don't mind.

So now I have to ride the red horse until it leaves town then start counting again.  
Bugger.

What is that smell?

When I was pregnant with my son a somewhat astonishing sixteen years ago (I swear it was only about five years, tops), my sense of smell went into overdrive.

I could smell coffee brewing two kilometres away.  I could smell rain in the air before the weather bureau gave the day's forecast. But most of all I could smell myself.  I became acutely aware of every fragrance my body was capable of giving off and therefore assumed everyone else could too.  I became quite anxious about it, convinced that everyone around me was just being polite by not mentioning it.  In short, I was quite sure that I stunk.  My doctor told me it was hormonal and not to worry about it.

Of course I didn't stink* and like everything else about pregnancy, it went away (except for the kid, he keeps hanging around) and my sense of smell returned to normal.

Until now.  I've tried to ignore it but can't any more. My sense of smell is once again on high alert only it's a little different this time.  This time my hyper-olfactory sense is confined to me.  Yep, once again I am horribly aware of myself and am once again convinced that I pong like a full nappy left in the laundry.

What's going on? I'm clean. I shower every day, sometimes twice a day.  I use deodorant.  I'm not particiularly active.  So why am I always aware lately of a sweaty pong emanating from my armpits? And as for when I squat down to do something...well, let's not even go there but let's just say that it's a lot better if I am actually wearing knickers and pants.

So why the whiffiness? Do I really stink? Is it hormone induced? Will it stop? Is this 'part of the process'? Will I end up cleaning myself obsessively eight times a day in an effort to reduce the smell? Or am I just going mad?

I still haven't had a period so I'm heading towards that 12 month finish line much easily than I thought I would, but I could really do without this animal aroma I seem to be giving off lately.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to have a shower.


* or did I?

Come back! All is forgiven

My period that is. After bitching and moaning about it so much a few months ago, it's continued to sulk and has not been seen since.

Now I want it. Desperately. And I want it within the next two weeks before we go on a long-awaited, much deserved holiday to Malaysia (a week in Kuala Lumpur - shopping!! and a week in Borneo).  The last thing I want is a perimenopausal period while I'm swanning around Borneo with the orangutans, believe me.  I'm already traumatised by the realisation that Malaysia is hot. And where we're staying has a pool.  And Borneo has beaches.

You know what this all means don't you? That's right. Bathers.

[space reserved for a respectful silence as women contemplate this]

Oh it's been teasing me - low cramps, an egg-popping feeling on the right, bloating - but no red flag.

I have a horrible feeling that it will come just before we leave or worse, while we're away.

I wish it would just make up its bloody mind (see what I did there?). At this rate, it's rivalling John Farnham for comeback tours and I've just about had enough.

So finger's crossed it makes an appearance in the next two weeks so I can get it over and done with. And I can concentrate on the full horror awaiting me, a Malaysian pool and unsuspecting tourists.

We're off to Malaysia for 16 days! Woohoo!