Two Hot Flashes....and Someone Get the F*&^ing Cat Out of the Tree (again)...
Ah, Christmas Eve! That magical time of year when the world sparkles with festive lights, the air smells faintly of cinnamon and evergreen, and everyone gathers to revel in holiday cheer. Unless, of course, you're a perimenopausal woman—then it's a totally different vibe.
Let me set the scene for you. The rest of the family is either asleep, binge-watching cheesy Christmas movies, or gleefully wrapping last-minute gifts while sipping eggnog. Meanwhile, you're lying on the couch, a human embodiment of a lava lamp: hot flashes morphing into chills and back again, with an inexplicable craving for both ice water and something salty.
The Christmas tree twinkles in the corner. It’s pretty… if you ignore the glaring fact that you had to redecorate it three times because your family has the artistic sense of squirrels. Oh, and you also had to do it with a backache because apparently, your hormones have decided to play fast and loose with how your joints work this week.
Remember that Christmas magic everyone talks about? You'd love to feel it. Really, you would. But the crushing anxiety over whether you remembered to buy enough stocking stuffers and the existential dread that accompanies insomnia have teamed up to ensure that the only thing you’re feeling tonight is irritable. Who needs a Silent Night when your inner monologue is screaming, “Why did I agree to host Christmas dinner AGAIN?!”
Speaking of hosting, there’s the small matter of food prep. Your family thinks it’s adorable when you “get creative” in the kitchen. What they don’t know is that you had a full-blown meltdown at the grocery store over the turkey. (It was too big, then it was too small, and then it didn’t matter because you forgot to buy it altogether.) So now, you’re brining a chicken and hoping nobody notices—or cares.
And let’s not even talk about your wardrobe. While everyone else is rocking cozy sweaters or festive pajamas, you’re wearing a tank top—in December—because your body is a fiery furnace of hormones. Oh, but don’t worry, you’ve accessorized with a seasonal flair: under-eye bags and a scowl that could melt snow.
Then there’s the soundtrack to your evening. It’s not the merry jingle of bells or the harmonious carols wafting through the house. No, it’s the sound of your teenage kids bickering over who gets the bigger portion of pie, your partner blissfully snoring on the couch, and the dog barking at absolutely nothing. Joy to the world, indeed.
Let’s also address the gift-wrapping situation. Somehow, you always end up with the oddly shaped items that defy the laws of physics and wrapping paper. By the time you’ve wrestled with that one impossible gift (you know the one), your tape dispenser is empty, your scissors are AWOL, and your patience has left the building.
And don’t forget about the obligatory last-minute “secret Santa” gift exchange you got roped into. Nothing says holiday spirit like frantically searching for a suitable gift in the 24-hour pharmacy aisle at 11 PM. Nail clippers and a scented candle? Perfect. Festive desperation at its finest.
Now, you may be wondering if there’s any joy to be found in Christmas Eve as a perimenopausal woman. Sure there is! You’ll feel it… as soon as everyone stops asking you why you’re “so snippy,” the Wi-Fi doesn’t crash mid-Zoom call with Aunt Carol, and you’ve had a glass (or three) of wine.
So here’s to you, the unsung holiday hero managing your hormones and the holidays simultaneously. May your hot flashes keep you warm in the snow, your mood swings terrify your in-laws into doing the dishes, and your Christmas morning coffee be extra strong—just like you.
Cheers!
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