Let’s be honest: hot flashes in the winter do not suck. Except they rarely come when you are walking in frigid temperatures with howling winds that chill your bones.
No, they usually come at night in your already over-heated dwelling.
Or during a meeting where someone mistakes your sweat for fear. Hell no, I don’t fear you.
In fact, I don’t fear anything when I am having a hot flash. I don’t have time.
Because I am too consumed by this and other indignities of aging that I wonder who are those damn happy retirees in the TV commercials?
And then I remember that the commercials are about erectile dysfunction, high blood pressure, sleeplessness, heart disease, having “to go” too frequently, not frequently enough, and dry-mouth. Ah, paradise. Oooooh, dream weaver ad men, how you read my fantasies. Right down to sitting in a random antique bathtub on the beach. [What is that in the Cialis commercial?]
SO, if commercials are to be believed [work with me here], then, in short order, I will be a diaper-clad, pill-popping, but, otherwise, extraordinarily healthy and vibrant looking, older woman who could wear a bikini if the hot flashes are really too much. No war on gravity; no arms that do the Hadassah-jiggle if I don’t work on my triceps for a few days. And I am driving my sports car. Now that is the part of this advertisement debacle that doesn’t suck.
And you wonder why I am not responding to you.
Interrupt me at your peril.