Menerva. If you missed the first installment of my hormonal rant, Menerva is my code name for my peri-menopause issues, and I’m doing something like a public service for the women coming behind me, because I feel cheated without a nice guide to walk me through this mess. I get tired of texting my cousin asking her if this is normal, or if I’m all the way crazy behaving this way. She’s always ready with a response I can use, but still…I’d rather be proactive.
So anyway, I’ve decided that my issues began just before my divorce, when my “lifestyle” took a significant decline and I stopped using some of my parts regularly. Yeah, I’m sure if you don’t use it, you lose it. It’s like the body knows if you’re not using the parts that can help you procreate, and when they need to be shut down. I mean, there’s no real need for them if you’re not exercising them right? Right.
So here I am in the workplace experiencing many of the symptoms that make me want to lock myself away indefinitely. For instance, my neighbors come with all sorts of smells and sounds that set me off in a bad way. Everything stinks, all noise is annoying, my radio doesn’t cover it all, and talking is a no-no. Too much talking goes on around here, and I almost forgot about the guy who farts all day on the other side of me. Nasty banger. I can’t. Some days I pack up and just leave. Cause I get so mad, I wanna yell expletives. I catch myself though. Actually, before I get into this too far I’m gonna use a code word for my expletives, which I find myself using all too often lately. I’ll substitute the word “bang” for all my bad words from here on out. So back to my average workday:
Now, whenever I’m in the office, I stay to myself, listening to music, cause of all the bang I just mentioned, and cause bangers who might mean well (not sure about some) walk by and say, “Hey stranger. You still work here,” or something equally banging annoying to me. They’re just saying hi, and they missed my positive energy, but I’m thinking conspiracy theory, so I get irate and get to thinking like, “Bang, keep it moving. That bang ain’t even original. You say it every banging week.” I speak or wave and I move swiftly so I don’t have to stop and have the dumb conversations that follow.
I can’t vouch for my attitude on any given day. Just bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. Not to mention that management wants me to actually do the banging work and be productive too, and with accuracy. Man, bang all that. I just went through three outfits cause before my makeup was on, I sweated all down my back, in places I can’t speak of, and if it wasn’t for the bun, my hair would be like sheep’s wool. Bang. I don’t even wanna be cute for work anymore. Bang those pumps and that dress. I crave sweats and tank tops, or just shorts and tanks. But since I had to come outside, I went with a black dress first, then when it was all wet, I thought I was gonna wear the tan one, but thanks to my shape, it looked somewhat obscene and I changed it. Plus the material would’ve shown all my sweaty secrets. Bang. Gray pants, black tee on deck. Self-image issues through the roof right now.
I’m ready to go. It’s 12:45. The delivery guy just brought me somebody else’s stuff I had to order cause she’s out. I don’t give a bang about her boss getting this bang. I’m mad I agreed and came in here for this. I stay mad. I wasn’t ever the nicest person, but now I don’t even like me most days. Bang. If a piece of my own hair should touch my face or neck, I think about cutting it all off. I’m hungry now. And I just lost feeling in my whole right hand cause I’m anemic. When I don’t eat, I get cold. But I don’t know what I’m gonna eat cause I don’t like anything right now. Food lets me down. I’ve been hugged up with a bag of almond M&M’s, ginger snaps, and corn chips for two days now. Gave me heartburn, which made me mad. I just need some help for all this bang. I can’t live like this. Bang, I gotta pee again. I gotta go.
From the Mind of:
Tonya D. Floyd
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