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Wednesday 17th August Eggs left: 0 probably. Years left till can no longer have children: 0.
Percentage by which likelihood of having children decreases daily: 500.
Minutes spent thinking about Meera Syal: 4,000. 8.55am.
Am peri-menopausal. Whole
thing is so horrific that cannot entertain reality of same or tell
anyone. My periods have suddenly stopped without me having any children.
Have just spent two hours sitting bolt upright at laptop, frenziedly
attempting to get through all 132,0000 exclamation mark-strewn sites
thrown up by Googling "menopause" - even very word gives me shiver of
fear. Searching through Hotflush.co.uk, Pituitaryworld.com etc. for
reassurance that am far too young for this to be happening. Hate being a
woman. We are biologically oppressed race, going along normally like men
thinking would be nice to have children one day, but not yet, then
suddenly: "Blup, sorry, you can't any more hahahaha." Must
go to work. Googling is like in old days before internet, when got stuck
reading travel brochures when late for work, or eating entire bag of
Cadbury's mini-eggs, feeling sick and disgusted with self but unable to
stop. Have been immersed in Hotflush! for last 40 minutes trying to get
into Frequently Asked Questions and being thwarted at every turn unless
agreeing to hand over e-mail address and thus be inundated with
peri-menopausal spam: invites to "Hotflush!" events, ads for books by
self-righteous smock-women with long grey hair, and recipes involving
peri-menopausal monkey sweetbreads. 9.45am.
Just got into FAQs on Busyoldpituitary!org: "Peri-menopause! - a kind of
'dress rehearsal' for menopause! - for some women begins as early as age
34." OHMYGOD.
It could really be happening. Bugger: am supposed to be at work in 15
mins and am not even dressed yet. 10.45am. In
morning meeting attempting to covertly Google "menopause" on Blackberry. "The
first symptom is usually an alteration in the menstrual cycle - a
shortening or lengthening of the time between periods." GAAAAAAAAAH! Was
Richard Finch, forcing his terrifying face between me and the Blackberry
and bellowing: "BRIDGUUUUUUUT!" "What?"
I said indignantly, hiding the menopause-filled Blackberry under my
skirt. "I'm
thinking licensing laws change. I'm thinking binge-drinking. I want you
at a café table doing continental-style drinking for seven hours to see
if you can manage it without becoming pugnacious and bellicose." "I
do not wish to participate in 'me, me, me'-style personality TV
journalism," I said, primly. "Oh,
fuck off, Miss Prissy Pants. It's either that or dress up as Madonna,
get on a horse, then fall off it." "NO!"
I replied, firmly, thinking: Madonna isn't peri-menopausal and she's 47
- but maybe she is, and that's why she fell off the horse. "Why don't I
do the drunk laws item without me in it?" I said slyly, as if
distracting a tantruming child. "Would you like me to get a Frenchman, a
policeman and a lager lout to have an argument about it?" "All
right," said Richard sulkily." But make it a Frenchwoman in a skirt. And
I want a nice young one, not some middle-aged old bag." 11.30am.
Back on Google: "Every woman experiences peri-menopause differently...
but she usually mimics her mother's experience." Is no way am going to
call my mother about this. Is nothing worse than mother's conversation
veering towards my body: "Did you get that talc I sent you, darling.
Keeps you nice and fresh, doesn't it?" 11.45am. Am
going to call her. Is no point burying head in sand in manner of
peri-menopausal ostrich. Noon.
Was nightmare: "Oh hello, darling," she gabbled. "Guess what? Caroline
Lakey's neighbour - you know, the one that's the snob? Well. That garage
she's supposed to be building: it isn't a garage, it's a swimming pool." Had
to barge into seamless gibberish with: "Mum, how old were you when you
had the menopause?" "What,
darling?" she said, followed by a crash. "Colin, have you put that Swiss
roll tin in a different cupboard?" "The
menopause," I hissed shuddering inwardly. "Oh,
I didn't have the menopause, darling! Mind you, Audrey Wainwright - you
know, lived opposite Lawley's cat food? - She had hers at 32. You could
tell she wasn't normal before, though. Shrivelled. No! It didn't affect
my hormones at all! Bridget!" she suddenly yelled, as if I was five
years old and drawing on the wallpaper. "You're not having the menopause
are you? Already? I told you it was time you got on with it because..." "No,
no, it's just..." I panicked. "I'm doing a piece for Sit Up Britain...
on HRT! Anyway, mustrunbyeee!" 8pm. Back
home, still Googling menopause. Only bright spot is that
continental-style drinking item was dramatic success, with lager lout
and Frenchwoman agreeing to engage in reality-show style 24-hour
drinking session to see who is most compos mentis by tomorrow's
programme. 9pm. Still
compulsively Googling. Jude and Shaz keep ringing up about meeting them
in Electric even though have explained to them quite clearly about
peri-menopause. 11pm.
Twenty minutes ago Jude and Shazzie burst into flat, by which time I had
to be prised away from laptop and forced to take slow sips of chardonnay
like invalid trying to keep down clear soup. "It's
him, isn't it?" said Jude. "I bet he hasn't called. Bastard." "He
has, but he's gone to India for work." "Which
he?" tittered Sharon. "Sorry, Bridge, but you've got to admit it's quite
funny, sleeping with Mark and Daniel at the same time." "I
am not sleeping with them at the same time," I hissed. "I accidentally
slept with each of them separately." "Talking
of which," said Jude. "You know about your periods stopping and you
being peri-menopausal?" "Yes?" "Have
you done a pregnancy test?" "Of course I bloody haven't," I said, wondering how Jude could be so cruel. "I can't have children any more. I'm peri-menopausal." "Well,
maybe you should just check? I mean, sometimes high spirits can bring it
on. Look at Meera Syal. She gets a cute new husband and bingo! Baby! And
she's miles older than you." |