Misty Eyed Moron...

"Who would that be?" you ask. Me. Unbelievable amount of tears that seem to seep out of my eyeballs these days. Make. It. Stop.

This could border on TMI, but if you're a reader of my blog you know that just about nothing is off limits. So here goes.

I had a very easy monthly visit from Aunt Flow. Very easy. All my life, (well okay except in 11th grade when I pretended to have cramps to get out of gym class. Only the gym teacher was also our school nurse who informed me "Exercise is good for cramps.") I had no real issues with Aunt Flow. I was regular, light, and never a moody basket case. Oh I had mood swings, I won't deny that. I was just never that crazy girl who went on an emotional roller coaster during those precious days each month.

Crying was something I left to the serious heartbreaks or losses. And I assure you there were many heartbreaks in high school and college that brought me knee deep in salty tears. Still, I felt I was a strong girl. And as Frankie Valli said, "Big Girls Don't Cry" (or Fergie for you younger crowd...she said it too).

It was rare that I cry in a movie. I left the sniveling to Blueberry. She used to cry when we would watch Little House on the Prairie re-runs in college. After the show I'd shove the box of Kleenex toward her and she'd exclaim, "Pa can always make me cry."

But not me. No way no how. I wasn't a crier.

Until recently.

Apparently by removing certain girl parts certain other parts feel the need to go into overdrive and leak tears. Its insane. I cry at every little thing these days.

Break a nail - I burst into tears.

Stub my toe - I lose it (but it really hurt)

Then I was watching Ellen tonight and she had a 12 year old kid from the Philippines who came out and sang "All By Myself"...it was beautiful...and by the end of the song...weeping.

Watch some stinking hallmark commercial about Thanksgiving and sending a loved one in the war a card -- oh geeze here I go again.

Talk amongst yourselves.

*sniff sniff...
Right. I'm composed.

Now, I am no where near where others are or have been. I can't even imagine going to that place...and if fact just thinking about it makes me cry.


The doctors told me I "could" have some menopausal side affects because the estrogen patch I'm on was such a low dose. When the said "could" I heard "never".

Still, here I am getting ready for bed thinking about all the things that made me tear up a bit today (9 times, but who's counting) and suddenly I realize, my EYES ARE LEAKING AGAIN. ARGH!

On a more positive note, and a note that won't make me cry - I don't think - I have 8 shots left. E-I-G-H-T! But again, who's counting.

I guess this is my life now. Weepy Woman! And the BEST part is I suspect it'll get worst when I'm in my 50's when the real menopause kicks in. Oh that will be just ducky. Can't wait. I've got so much to look forward to.


If you're still reading, stay tuned for my next blog where I discuss my own personal summers that go on too.

I did manage to go into the office today too. I spent 1/2 of the day getting reacquainted with all the old crew at work. It was nice to go in and have conversations with people who actually talked back instead of look at you blankly with their black furry face. I may have over did it. May have. Still it felt good to get out among the living, non crying people.