As I find myself approaching month six without a visit from my monthly period I find myself almost holding my breath to see whether this is ‘it’, whether I have passed into the stage of being actually menopausal or whether this is Mother Nature’s idea of a little
torment teasing and she will, in fact, be back at some point. Just to put it out there, if she decides to renew our acquaintance on Christmas Day when I have a lot of mouths to feed then I will not be impressed…
I would love to know how ‘the end’ happened for any of you ladies out there who have actually come out the other side and are now in full menopause so do please leave your stories in the comments below as it helps others to get an idea of what to expect too.
This week I found myself looking up female urination devices. Yes, yes, I know, not exactly a topic for polite society but putting it in with the post on monthlies seemed like a two birds with one stone situation *smiles*. The thing is sometimes a girl has to go. In the UK, even when you hope there is not a soul around for miles, there will be. Usually within shouting distance. As a woman you are probably safer alone in the middle of a wood then you are alone in the middle of an urban area where screams are common place and usually mean nothing especially if you live on a main road as I do. Bizarre but true.
So going back to the need for a device, let me tell you a story. Years ago I climbed mountains, literally, and when the call of nature meant too many brews had been consumed I found a lonely bush and just got on with it. You climbed a mountain, you paid the privacy price. These days I go geocaching and walking sometimes with the family when I am well enough and, thanks to the perimenopause, that cup of tea I had two hours before the walk is fighting its way out yet again despite going twice before we left home.
So there I was, behind said bush and minding my own business in an ancient wood in the middle of nowhere when some chap on a massive horse (quite possibly a Suffolk Punch only I was too embarrassed to raise my eyes for a good, close look at either of them) called a hello two feet away from me and proceeded to talk about how frosty the day was. I knew this quite well as my behind was exposed to the elements and a nasty looking nettle but I couldn’t rise or I would risk…exposure. I retorted that the day was most agreeable and bade him a pleasant morning and tried to look usefully employed down behind a bush. We waited whilst the horse relieved itself and he made off with a wave of his hand.
He knew what I was doing. Of course he knew. It was probably his wood.
So I have decided it might be better for someone to come across a woman of a certain age peeing up against a tree…a sort of a modern Victorian curiosity if you like. Hopefully no pictures will appear on Facebook entitled “Now I Have Seen Everything!” but better that than a random photo of my ever expanding menopausal bottom with the same headline. A girl has to have some self pride. Peeing up a tree can at least be seen as an accomplishment..yes?
Therefore I have been trying to decide between a flashy longer pipe for superior aim or a short stubby one which won’t draw such admiring glances when I want to be alone. Is bigger best or is it really all about what you do with it? Will I regret keeping it simple if I come across another woman using the same tree whose girth is more substantial and whose aim is better? Having said that I won’t want to reuse it many times so should I go for quality or quantity? Do I collect and bank or pee and flee? You can see my dilemma.
Choosing the right device is a lot more difficult than I thought and I really don’t want to cock it up.