Sunday, July 28, 2013
I am white hot, I can’t take it anymore!
I think, “Oh my God, this is spontaneous combustion!” In two minutes I’ll be nothing more than a scorch mark on the floor of the liquor store.
I tear off my jacket and my T-shirt is already soaking wet. I spot the beer cooler and make a bee-line. I run like a women on fire to the cooler letting go of the cart and it rolls into a wine display.
A female store attendant pokes her head around the stack of Corona neatly piled up at the entrance. I am sitting on top of a waist-high stack of Labatt Lite, fanning myself with the bottom of my T-shirt. Steam is seeping from my pores.
“Are you ok?” she nervously asks me. “Hot flashes” I inform her. “I’ll leave you alone” she nods as she walks way. She has an after- thought and pokes her head back in “Don’t open any beer ok? It’s illegal to open it in the store.” Then she backs out as if she is inside a bear cage at a zoo instead of the beer cooler at her place of work.
Hot Flashes! I had my first one about a week ago. I started early menopause a year ago and started having night sweats at the same time. I thought that was the worst thing that could happen to me.
Hot flashes are the worst thing that could happen to me. It’s hard to believe that the good Lord would make us bleed and cramp for forty years then burn in hell for the next forty.
I now keep bottled water in my freezer not to drink but to put between my boobs when I have hot flashes.
I phone my sister and ask her how long these last “I’ve had them for twenty years” she tells me.
Twenty years!!! What?
I can’t go through twenty years of spontaneously combusting in public. I am already banned from the liquor store. She tells me there’s a hormone treatment. All I can think of is “Great, $1500 spent on laser hair removal and now I have to take hormones.” It leaves me with visions of becoming the bearded lady in a circus side-show.
I make it home toting a dozen Labatt Lite. I don’t even drink Labatt Lite I just felt obligated after I melted on top of the box. Plus my bum print was on the box.
By the time I get to my bedroom and take off my soaking wet T-shirt another hot flash hits. I open the windows all the way. My hair is soaking with sweat and curls up into a Foxy Brown afro. The sweat burns my eyes and I want to pull the skin off my body. Good Lord, the feeling of fainting takes over me. I just make it to bed and lay on top of the comforter. After a few minutes I come to and drag myself off the bed. I look at the comforter. The imprint of my body is outlined on the material from the sweat. It reminds me of the X-rays left on the buildings after the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima.
Hot flashes. Just another thing to look forward to ladies.
I stagger to the windows and start turning the handle that closes them. There’s a teenager sitting in a car across the street from my house. He has the radio on blast and I can hear Tom Cochrane singing “I am white hot. I can’t take it anymore.” I think “You and me both brother, you and me both.”
Then I realize that I am standing in the window wearing nothing but a bra and this kid is looking at me like I am Mrs. Robinson.
“Hot flashes. I am having hot flashes” I yell out the window. He slowly drives away. “I hope he wasn’t my son’s friend” I think to myself.
Posted by Helen C. Escott