REALLY "TRI" ING


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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I am going to talk about it.

When I had one while running the other day I realized I simply can't deny their existence any longer.  
 
I just didn't know.  I mean, I didn't have a clue.  They can happen at any time. Without any warning.  Day.  Night.   Anywhere.  No matter where you are going. No matter what you are doing.  Even if you are running.   I am talking about..... > gulp < .....hot flashes.  There.  I said it. 

 I had heard about hot flashes.  Yeah, yeah....middle aged women get a little overheated for a minute.  Big deal. So what?  That was then.  This is now.  Now I am sitting on the couch watching my story (sidebar:  d*** you, ABC, for cancelling my story.  I will never, ever forgive you.  Since high school, no matter what I've ever had going on in my life, no matter where I was living or what I was doing, I knew at one o'clock I could always go to Pine Valley...to Tad and Dixie, Adam and Stuart, Jenny and Greg....and my world would be all right for an hour.  My world would be marriages and divorces, affairs and scandals, deaths and you just think they're dead deaths.   I will miss you deeply, Pine Valley.) watching my story, taking a sip of my afternoon coffee, when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, without any warning, Mount Vesuvius erupts.   In my body.   I am completely covered in sweat. Tad is still there telling Dixie has has always loved her even though yes, he did marry Cara,  but I am now watching them is soaking wet clothes.   Or I am at work, having a discussion with  my coworkers in the hall when I feel it begin.   Oh, no.  Not now.  Dear god, not here,  From deep, deep within it starts.  Heat.  So much heat.   Getting hotter.  And hotter.  Rising to the surface.  Hotter and hotter still.  My boss is standing there talking.  I am so hot. I focus on his mouth.  Words are coming out.  So hot.  Sweat starting.  Sounds coming out of his mouth.  I am trying  hard to concentrate so  he doesn't know I have not heard one word he's said and the whole time he has been talking  all I want to do is take that big cup of ice water out of his hand and dump it all over my head.  Or at night when I wake from a sound sleep. For a minute I don't know why I am awake.  But just for a minute.  Because in the next minute I am cursing, throwing the covers off,    furious we don't have 1200 thread count sheets, drenched from head to toe, waking my husband, mad at him for still being cool and comfortably asleep and demanding that he blast more fans on me.

My poor husband   He is such a sweetie.  I can count on one hand the number of times he has made a negative comment about my appearance (present hair strike excluded).   So I know it's bad, real bad, when he reaches over to me and the word "eeww" involuntarily escapes his mouth when he touches my unexpectedly sweaty skin.  And as I explained to him, no, it doesn't really help that it was involuntary.

Hot flashes.  Even while running.  Maybe I'll have a tee shirt made for the triathlon:  One Hot Momma.

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