I’m at that age when I’m closer to finishing my periods than when I started them. I don’t think I’m that close, however, as my mum was ancient when hers stopped. We could have kids the same age (eek!). I’m kinda like: ok, bored with them now. Ready to try another monthly ailment like pissing myself or a hot flush.
I’ve never been a real sufferer of bad periods, they just irritate the hell out of me. For a start, my organisational skills have to crank up a notch, so that I’m not caught out. In an already busy week this just adds another little layer of stress. Stuffing pads and tampax into various pockets that four year olds then find while you’re teaching, as they deftly undo the zip of your tracksuit. What’s that Mrs Longhurst? A lipstick Elizabeth, now hit the freakin’ pad.
Another hazard around the monthlies is dog one with his complete obsession with anything that looks like a tissue. He once followed me into the loo and I couldn’t be bothered to shoo him out. Mistake. There was a brief struggle between me, him and an Always Ultra and he was the winner. Mum! What’s dog 1 got in his mouth? Quick, grab it out darling, before he eats it! I learnt my lesson.
One of the difficulties about being on is being on at a house with no bin. One time, I was at friends for Sunday lunch. I went to the loo, shoved the packaging in my pocket and returned to the table, only for it to fall out, unbeknownst to me, and be picked up by their 8 month old, who was crawling on the floor. It wasn’t until her granny scooped her up for a cuddle, that I noticed she was clutching the applicator, wrapped in bright orange, shiny, crinkly plastic. To be fair to her, it didn’t look a whole lot different to something you’d buy in Babies R Us, but granny wasn’t impressed.
So roll on the menopause. I’ve got enough kids anyway. I’ve done my time. Monthlies – be gone! You know, it will be just my luck though, that the vibrating tampon is on the shelves, just as I am reaching for the Tenas.