The Art of Perspiring AKA Sweating Like a Pig

For most of my life, I was cold natured. I was the one whose hands no one wanted to shake or hold because as soon as anyone made contact with my hand, they’d immediately pull back shrieking, “Good God, your hand is like ice!” Their faces always had a horrid look on them like they’d just stuck their hand in a pile of shit or something and I’d think, “Good God, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

So for most of my life, I wished I was more of a warmer natured person and because our Heavenly Father above has a sense of humor, I am now a walking ball of hot liquid magma!

When I go to shake hands with someone, if it is ice cold, I molest their hand and put it on the back of my neck and cheeks but I will say, I stop at sticking them in my under pits cuz that’s a bit further than necessary, although I’ve thought about it. Yes, I have startled a few victims by my molestation of their cold hands, but people, when you are hot liquid magma most of the time, this kinda shit can happen.

I know I’m not alone all you perimenopausal or menopausal ladies out there because I hear the chatter and the nodding in understanding when I start sweating like a pig and have to fan myself saying, “If I flash any harder, I’m going to catch on fire!”

For the first time in my life, I miss being cold natured. I miss putting layers on to stay warm because now, I take as much off as legally possible and sometimes it’s still not enough. I take cold showers, something I didn’t think I’d EVER do.

Why is it that women have all the shitty crap to deal with like getting boobs, getting periods, having babies, feeling the need to wear make-up, shaving, waxing, plucking, coloring, and then comes fun ‘ole peri or full on menopause.

Didn’t we suffer enough when we grew boobs that got in the way of our golf game and men talk to them instead of our faces?

Didn’t we suffer enough when some months our periods were so painful and heavy you passed out and because your iron was so low, you couldn’t give blood either?

Didn’t we suffer enough when we squeezed a watermelon out of a dime sized opening?

Don’t we suffer enough to look thin, pretty, smooth, etc.?

I’d say we have suffered enough so why at the end of boob growth, periods, having babies, and all the other shit I know I’m missing do our bodies have to be lit on fire?

I have heard some of my friends tell me that their night time hot flashes are so bad that they literally have a sweaty outline of their person on the sheets when they wake up. I thought, “Oh, surely you jest,” but hell no, I did this for the first time a few weeks back. I was mortified. My husband thought I lost MAJOR bladder function after consuming a keg of water single-handedly as he shook his head at the outline with worry and concern . . . oh, yea, and utter disgust.

It seems his wife is morphing into Lava Girl right before his eyes!

I will say this, though, I love being a woman. I do envy the men though when they can just whip it out to pee wherever but I wouldn’t want a weenie, hands down WOULD NOT! That thing is crazy and when y’all get excited, there’s really no hiding it, we at least can keep our being turned a secret.

Being a woman is powerful! I mean we can grow an alive little person in our bodies and feed them with our bodies when they pop out. Hell, I didn’t even need my ex, I could have done it all by myself with a little borrowed sperm from the bank, although I was doing that pretty much anyway, but I’ll digress.

Being a woman is not easy as I have stated here but I was made this way and this is the way I’ll stay. Thank you God for who I am, even if it feels like I’ve been thrust into the fires of hell here lately.

Love y’all!! ♥