“Caution: Menopausal woman on board” – this should have been the bumper sticker that adorned my car.

I knew I should have stayed in bed as soon as I awoke, after a not so restful sleep it was apparent whoever was in my body wasn’t me. Observing her getting ready she was clearly struggling to put simple thoughts and wardrobe together. Opting out of the lighter coloured pants, cute sweater and jacket she said “No way, wear dark colours and cover up that stomach and behind.” Clearly, she was not in the mood for light and bright.

This attitude progressed and I saw her do several things twice as she forgot what she was doing from one minute to the next. This woman had issues. However, she had a job to do and a long commute ahead to get there. As if she just turned a page in a book her mood suddenly got a little lighter. Listening to her favourite radio station, laughing at the funny commentary and noticing the eagles and herons flying above; all was well with the world.

That was soon to change again. Halfway through the trip a detour was required and that helped change the tranquil tides of emotional bliss back to the crashing waves of hormonal hell. This ship with a fool on board went up and down, up and down. On the up side, the rational side kicked into gear and “I” realized I needed to make a call.

Realizing I may be 10 minutes late, I left a friendly message via my cell phone (hands free) to my dear colleague Cyndy. Then it happened. The car in front of me stopped right in the middle of the intersection; their car, my car and one other were stuck right at a red light. As other unintelligent drivers chose to pretend like the car in front of me didn’t exist and allow it to get into the necessary lane, we were all temporarily stranded in traffic. My alter personality emerged again at the most in opportune time.

Forgetting the phone was still on I/she rifled off expletives that went something like “I’m on your bleepin bleep!”  “ Bleep...bleepin...bleep!” Needless to say only three words were suitable for delicate ears. I quickly turned off the phone and a hot flash followed that could have melted the dashboard. Given the nature of my comments it is no wonder my head wasn’t spinning in circles like a character in a horror movie or that God wasn’t  about to strike me down.  (Maybe I could use that new iPhone app that allows for confessions to a priest.)

Arriving in the office, I asked Cyndy “Have you checked your phone yet.” “No, Why?” she said.  I of course, try to save my bacon from embarrassment and say “Well don’t. Just delete it.” I shared how I was feeling today and what I have been dealing with physically hoping I would be spared. I don’t know what made me think she would comply with my request to delete the call, anytime anyone say’s something like that curiosity kicks in. Later, on our break, I hear a big laugh coming from the office. There it was the hormonal tirade not only on voice mail but on text too.

After a great laugh, another hot flash and a sense of relief I went about my day. In my lunch hour I walked to the drug store picked up my Kotex and dark chocolate, necessities of any self respecting menstruating female. The cashier asked if I wanted a bag for my purchase to which I replied “Yes! I’m not walking down the road with this in my hands.” Switching back to my good side I flashed a smile and said “thank you.” The rest of my day went by rather normally with the occasional chuckle about the days outbursts.  Vowing to have a safe and hormonally free return home I got to my car to see a huge splatter of bird poop right on the driver side of my windshield. As my attempts to remove it with fluid and wipers was unsuccessful, I quietly put on my music, grabbed a piece of chocolate and drove off. I wasn’t going to let “her” rise to the surface again.