SWEATY BETTY RIDES AGAIN!
Sweaty Betty here again, after another night of sweating and shivering, I am back at my desk (right now its coffee time). Coffee…now there’s a thing, the dilemma is to drink it or not to drink it?
Due to lack of sleep doing my Karate Kid impression, (duvet on….duvet off…duvet on…..), I now resemble a 90 year old woman who has just come out of a coma…bloodshot eyes, the speed of a snail and as much work as a sick note in this frazzled body. So, caffeine should perk me up a bit, well you would think so…wouldn’t you?
So I drink 2 cups one after another, within 20 minutes and I eat a BLT roll for lunch. Within 3 minutes of the second cup I am sweating like a furnace, whilst shivering at the same time. My head is experiencing the ‘buzz’ of a 1,000 Bees and my mouth will not produce anything coherent. I have heartburn from the bread, a raging thirst from the salty bacon and I am sneezing from the copious amounts of pepper under the lettuce.
According to the BBC website, I should eat more soya milk and soya flour, linseeds, tofu, pumpkins seeds, sesame seeds, sunflower seeds. Stop eating foods that are likely to trigger or worsen hot flushes and night sweats. For instance, avoid stimulants such as tea, coffee, alcohol and chocolate, especially at night – they’re notorious for setting off hot flushes. Oh yeah, so I feel like shit, I look like shit and now I have to live on water and bloody bird seed! When will it all end? Symptoms listed in various place read like a recipe for suicidal tendencies! See extensive list below
Hot flashes, flushes, night sweats and/or cold flashes, clammy feeling
Irregular heart beat
Irritability
Mood swings, sudden tears
Trouble sleeping through the night
Irregular periods; shorter, lighter periods; heavier periods, flooding; phantom periods, shorter cycles, longer cycles
Loss of libido
Dry vagina
Crashing fatigue
Anxiety, feeling ill at ease
Feelings of dread, apprehension, doom
Difficulty concentrating, disorientation, mental confusion
Disturbing memory lapses
Incontinence, especially upon sneezing, laughing; urge incontinence
Itchy, crawly skin
Aching, sore joints, muscles and tendons
Increased tension in muscles
Breast tenderness
Headache change: increase or decrease
Gastrointestinal distress, indigestion, flatulence, gas pain, nausea
Sudden bouts of bloat
Depression
Exacerbation of existing conditions
Increase in allergies
Weight gain
Hair loss or thinning, head, pubic, or whole body; increase in facial hair
Dizziness, light-headedness, episodes of loss of balance
Changes in body odor
Electric shock sensation under the skin and in the head
Tingling in the extremities
Gum problems, increased bleeding
Burning tongue, burning roof of mouth, bad taste in mouth, change in breath odour
Osteoporosis (after several years)
Changes in fingernails: softer, crack or break easier
Tinnitus: ringing in ears, bells, ‘whooshing,’ buzzing etc.
OMG is there any point in going on? Look here ladies, the only thing that keeps me sane at the moment, is the thought that there are plenty of other people in the cemetery that would love to be putting up with this and if I’m going to get all these symptoms anyway, pass me the wine bottle, give me chocolate and order me another cup of Espresso! ……Granny
Wednesday Whinge
What do people get out of being permanently miserable? Why do some people try really hard to make everyone else’s life miserable? Isn’t life hard enough without using all your excess energy to be a grumpy, sour faced, sad specimen of mankind? If you recognise yourself in this mini rant…..remember…you reap what you sow….end of rant 
…… Granny
WELCOME TO THE FAN CLUB
As readers of this blog will be aware, I am going through the madness that is menopause. “Nothing wrong with that, perfectly normal”, I hear you say. Well let me tell you right now…normal it is not! To give future sufferers the head up, I have devised a series of helpful hints that go something like this.
DAY TIME
Do not drink coffee or any other caffeine based beverage. If you do you will turn into an overheated, clammy, sweaty Betty. The affect makes you feel as though you were suffering from pneumonia as your temperature goes through the roof and your face, neck and even your ears go scarlet. This surge lasts for between 10 and 25 minutes and people think you are about to faint. Avoid caffeine like the plague.
I have taken, Evening Primrose, MenoPace®, Soy, Sage, Black Cohosh..you name it, I’ve swallowed it but to no avail. I have also tried avoiding coffee, tea,wine,spirits, curry, chilli and umpteen other foods and drinks. Still no end to the heat wave!
When dressing for work your will need. A sleeveless top, a top with sleeves, a waistcoat, a cardigan or jumper and a jacket or coat. These layers you must inter-change throughout the day to accommodate temperature fluctuations. Oh and don’t wear anything with a collar as this causes more temperature changes. You must take all of these items every day and I suggest you have spares for when the sweating gets out of hand.
Write things down, otherwise you will forget where you live, your name and as for PIN numbers…don’t even go there. I suggest you put them in your phone as telephone number. Don’t lose your phone; it has all your PIN numbers in it. Do save them to sim otherwise when you change your handset…you lose all your PIN numbers…yes PIN numbers are a problem to menopausal women as are passwords for all of the reasons stated previously.
When shopping, write a list otherwise you will get home with all the stuff you don’t need and forget all the stuff you do need, like salt…there is no substitute for salt and if I forget it once, I will forget it for weeks resulting in bland, tasteless food and complaints from the family.
Do not open your mouth to speak until you are completely confident that you have engaged your brain. Even your mouth gets menopausal moods and sometimes it does not work properly resulting word substitution. This is ok until you say ejaculate instead of evacuate, sex instead of text and cocking instead of cooking!
This list of issues is by no means exhaustive and if you have any other examples please let me know by commenting at the end of this blog so that I can watch out for them when inevitably they happen to me!
NIGHT TIME
This is where the ‘Fan Club’ in the title comes in. Before going to bed I take a tepid shower. I have used lavender oil to help me sleep (it doesn’t) and tried to stick to a routine. I joined the gym, I avoid eating heavy meals late at night but still the hours I spend ‘trying’ to sleep go like this.
I use cotton sheets; I wear cotton night clothes (or nothing at all depending on my temperature when I hit the sack).
I have my pillows at just the right height, too high causes a crick in your neck, too low and I can’t breathe. I don’t use a top sheet, I turn over so frequently that I end up wrapped up like a toffee within an hour. Lightweight duvet, with cotton covers (all natural fibres as the advice suggests). I take water to bed but I am convinced that even that sets me off!
I have an oscillating fan about 2 feet from the bed, which is left on all night, this results in keeping me cool for so long…then after I have sweated to inferno point, I get cold because I have now got a gale force wind pointing at my body and have to wrap myself up in the duvet for around 20 minutes or until the next flush starts.
This cycle goes on all night. Last night (hence why I am writing this) I made a mark on a piece of paper each time I had a flush, then a chill…total in 6 hours and 45 minutes, 23 times….and I wonder why I’m knackered all the time.
I am told that the menopause can last up to 10 years! FFS tell me it isn’t true! In another life I am definitely coming back as a man….I’m off now….flush number 13 for today imminent….Granny
A JOB TO LIVE
Just thought I’d have a little RANT about the “help” that people get when they’re unemployed. So when you’re sitting comfortably I’ll begin.
Coming from a family with a strong work ethic and as a descendant of generations of Welsh miners, with a pre-programmed desire to be employed for as long as I possibly can, I find it hard to take the astronomical unemployment figures that we have in this country. No shock there then, but in recent weeks I have had cause (albeit indirectly) to have dealings with the people who deal with the unemployed, various agencies including Jobcentres, Bond Boards, Borough Council Housing Departments and so on….the treatment that is forced upon some of the most vulnerable people in the land is absolutely appalling and often beyond comprehension.
The case in question is a member of my family, who for the sake of this blog we shall call Steve. Steve has been unemployed for the most part of his adult life and admittedly in his younger days was quite adept at getting himself sacked for stupid pranks, like driving as forklift when he wasn’t qualified and being in the town centre checking his bank account, when he should have been hosing down a factory floor. Stupid I know but hardly crimes of the century.
In recent years he has taken odd jobs where he would work for an agency for three weeks, only to be laid off at the end and then have to wait 6 weeks for his money to be sorted out again, (yes they have his details from three weeks ago but “that’s how long the system takes”).
He then did some voluntary work, the company promised him and 6 others that at the end of the 3 weeks they would all be given jobs….needless to say none of them did and yes…it took another 6 weeks to reinstate his Job seekers allowance (JSA) – do you see a pattern emerging here?
Steve has very low basic skills ability and no qualifications, he hated school and would bunk off at every opportunity and you could say that he never really helped himself. Now he’s all grown up no-one wants to help him either. If he was aged between 16 &25 there is quite a lot of help available but he is 26 and not classed as NEET ( Not in Education, Employment or Training)…past his sell by date then?
The latest ploy to reduce the unemployment figures is called A4E – AKA – Action for Employment. So far, Steve has had to make three trips to another valley, bus fare = £3.80 per time and he attends for 2 whole hours twice a week.
He has been to Working Links, Job Match and umpteen other schemes all of which help him to write a CV, (he now has 6 CVs all saying the same thing), interview techniques, he has done 4 times to date and the only interview he has had in the last 4 years has been for Asda Aces, even though we have sent off lots of letters to companies (who don’t even bother to answer). Apparently he can’t work as an Asda Ace as he has no special needs or disabilities?
To add insult to injury, Steve was recently made homeless by his girlfriend (she chucked him out), so I have helped him to set up his own flat, a bit of independence would be good I thought.
Steve is in receipt of £120 per fortnight JSA, so we contacted the council and put his name on a list for affordable housing. The response …”He is not classed as homeless and therefore has ‘no points’ so look for a private dwelling and ask the Bond Board to sort out a bond”. No such luck, so I paid £150 admin fee and £320 advanced rent for him to be able to get the flat because at least the housing benefit will cover the rent….WRONG! They will only cover £65 of the £80 per week and therefore out of the JSA he has to pay £15 per week shortfall. He is now down to £90 per fortnight.
At the moment I am paying the shortfall on a flat with no furniture for Steve who cannot move in until he has the means to cook etc., he is down to £90 per fortnight and still hasn’t paid for any electric, gas, food, clothing …..Oh and I am guarantor……….Happy F$*&KING Days
He does not qualify for any kind of social fund loan or grant and therefore we have to get all the family to chip in for 2nd hand furniture, I have no problem with that but how do some people get thousands of pounds in help? Oh yes….they have babies (I don’t think he can have a baby, so therefore he can’t have help).
Next step, ring the power supplier to put the electricity and gas on his name….oh and we want pre-pay metres so that he doesn’t get into strife with the bills….. “OK Madam that will be £60 for each metre!”…..”But he’s on JSA…£120 per fortnight… “OK we’ll put them in and charge him extra each time he tops up his key” … “oh and by the way if he loses his key, there is a charge to replace it!” I’m losing my rag now and slam the phone down AARGGHHHHHHHHH
Where next then? Maybe the Government could give me some guidance….I won’t hold my breath and neither will Steve…………………Granny
HERE COMES THE BRIDE, ALL DRESSED IN ???
OK, so here’s the thing, I am 53, I have 3 grown up children and 5 grandchildren, I have been with the same man for 11 years and now, after I thought it would never happen, he’s proposed! I am bowled over, flattered, happy, ecstatic in fact, as I know this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.
My children love him, my grandchildren love him and everything in the garden is rosy. There is only one problem….what on earth do I wear?
Trouser suit, skirt and jacket, dress and jacket, proper wedding dress (not me at all), decisions, decisions and when I ask anyone, they say, “wear what you’re comfortable in”. That’s settled then, I’ll go in my dressing gown and slippers!
The engagement happened three weeks ago today, outside a 14th century church in Heiligenblut, Austria. It is a place we have visited before and we love it. The proposal was a complete shock and now that I have come back down from cloud 9, we have some serious planning to do.
(Back to the frock).
White – No, I am not a virgin
Cream –No, I am not an ice-cream
Black – No, I am not a Goth, or a witch
Gold – No, I am not an Oscar
Red – Would clash with my ginger hair, as would orange, bronze or any other warm colour
Blue – makes me look insipid as does beige, taupe and ‘biscuit’
Green – now this is my favourite colour, but honestly, unless it was a very dark green I wouldn’t want to get married in green. It’s going to be a May wedding and I think dark green is more ‘winter’.
Purple – makes me think of vampires or Kings for some reason
Lilac – (my grand daughters chosen colour) A bit Parma Violets or Lavender water which reminds me of my elderly Grandmother (sorry Nan).
So now where do we go? The only other colour is YELLOW….I don’t really think it would be a good look, a sort of Miss Piggy crossed with Big Bird?
As you can see this is going to be a real dilemma, so if there are any mature brides out there, who wish to be my style consultant, all advice will be gratefully received…..Granny
A TALE OF TWO TITTIES
At the risk of embarrassing my family…I would like to discuss TITS! AKA Melons, Bazookas, Boobs, Breasts, Bitty, Bosoms and a raft of other colloquial nicknames. Men and I suppose some lesbians, seem to love them and often in conversation with large chested women of ample cleavage, cannot avert their eyes away from these mounds of curiosity, (“yes they’re breasts lovey…get over it”). Well folks I have news for you, they are not easy to live with and I can speak from experience.
I first had problems even before I reached my teens, whilst other 11 year olds were still wearing vests, I had to have my first (trainer) bra, that in itself insinuates that you need practice to own a pair of breasts. Being a tad ‘tomboyish’ I was filled with dread when I could see the lines of my (trainer) bra through all of my clothes. This resulted in me wearing tee shirts under everything and sweating profusely for most of the time spent outside of my bedroom, when I could take the damn thing off!
As I got older, for a while they were quite useful I suppose. I realised that boys liked them, my clothes fitted nicely in all the right places and I would say that for around 4 years I lived in harmony with my boobs…that ladies and gentlemen is where the honeymoon period ends.
I had my first child (sorry daughter dear) when I was almost 19 and all the motherhood bumph had the words ‘Breast is Best’ scrawled over every page. Mine were useless, the milk was rubbish, I couldn’t get my baby to suckle and when she did, she screamed all night because she was still hungry, so now my boobs were starving my child….thank God for Cow & Gate! By the way I have 3 children and the same thing happened at all 3 attempts of breast feeding…I was a failure, or rather my breasts were, so what possible use are they to me?
These days I have grown accustomed to the fact that they are just one of the crosses I have to bear and as an experienced supporter of minimiser bras supporting my ample physique I would like to offer advice to younger less experienced boob carriers;
Do’s
Do sit approximately 2 feet from the dinner table to avoid dipping your boobs in your gravy
Do tuck your serviette down your frock to avoid dripping your gravy down your cleavage
Do take a cardigan everywhere to wear to the loo as your nipples will stick out like monkey’s fingers on your return and you WILL have an audience
Do consider wearing a tee shirt bra, the caveat to this is that they are padded and make your bazookas looking even bigger
Do wear a well-fitting minimiser bra but be prepared to walk in the style of a bodybuilder as they push all excess bosom under your arm pits
This list is by no means exhaustive
Don’ts
Don’t go jogging without a sports bra, you will get a bruise on your chin and one on your ribs (oh and sore boobs)
Don’t drive your car without a jacket on, you will need to tuck your seatbelt under your collar, otherwise it won’t sit in between your boobs but will slide over the top of them and cut your throat if you have to do an emergency stop
Don’t wear an ill-fitting bra. Too big and you will need to stuff it with tissues, too small and you will look like you have 4 breasts this is not a good look
Don’t be tempted to wear pretty, scanty underwear. It doesn’t support anything and you look like you have 2 jellies under your jumper when you walk…oh and they fall out!
Don’t fall in love with a leg man; they won’t appreciate your ‘best bits’. You definitely need to attract the attention of a boob man
This list is by no means exhaustive.
If anyone would like anymore advice please don’t hesitate to ask.
At the age of 53 I think I have finally found one advantage to being a 42DD, these days when I get undressed the wrinkles on my face disappear, I will leave you all to guess why…..Granny
HAPPINESS PERSONIFIED
Today…is my birthday and I must say I am feeling particularly satisfied with my lot. I have just returned from a holiday on Symi in the Greek Islands, I have another three week jaunt to Europe planned in seven weeks time, I am happily ensconced in a long term relationship and my children have flown the nest allowing me far more ‘me time’, although they have produced five grandchildren which has doubled my Christmas list. This is not a problem as I like to indulge my family when I can afford it.
At the age of 53 I have finally found my Shangri la, the place where…if we’re honest we probably all strive to be. I feel comfortable in my own (oversized) skin, I feel healthier than I have in years, I am relaxed and happy at work, I have lovely friends ….and so on….Why then, do I feel that I should be suffering in some way? I mean I’ve had my fair share over the years e.g. 2 failed marriages, my house repossessed, losing my job at the same time that my ex husband lost his, hence three children no wages. Broken bones, domestic violence, losing my Dad aged 30 but I would say that all of these things have made me stronger if anything, it’s what has shaped the 53 year old me! So I keep telling myself to just be happy, let life throw at me what it will, I have already done my share of trials and tribulations and have dealt with most of them satisfactorily.
Maybe this is why I get incensed, when people whinge about trivial stuff like queuing, being slightly overweight, saying they have flu when they have sneezed twice (sneezing is NOT flu – flu puts you in bed for a week).
Then there are the young girls who can’t go to work/school because they have a period! You get them for life almost, so take your pills and get off your arse lady! People saying they’re hungry when they ate less than an hour before. People who are thirsty but won’t drink water?
People who are what I call serial victims (they love to tell you how hard done by they are) they have always had bigger bruises, heavier falls etc and when they ask you how you are if you’ve been under the weather, they then go into a whole epilogue about how it was worse for them when they had the same illness….well you know what…don’t bother asking me if you’re not interested! Self pity has got to be outlawed, it never got anyone anywhere, it doesn’t make you feel better and people stop listening to you when you speak as they are sick of hearing about it.
So…now that I am happy (although you would never guess after all of the above), I don’t want to spoil it by burdening myself with the self gratification of others who put their own individual interests and welfare, before those of other people. I have three words for them….GET A LIFE!
Rant over….Granny
OH NO IT’S BARRY BEECH
Barry could not understand why people didn’t like him? Even his own Mother didn’t like him! After all, who would be so cruel as to name their only son after a South Wales seaside town? Thank fully his Mother wasn’t born in Ystrad Gynlais, what would she have called him then?
He moved his Rice Krispies around the bowl until they snapped and crackled their last pop and waited for the regular morning ritual. He sat, waiting, he knew it was coming, it always did, in fact he almost enjoyed it. In fact he could have avoided his Mothers daily scolding quite easily by just getting up, getting dressed and going off to school before she had crawled from under the duvet, but that would be too easy. He was thirteen now and wanted to cause as much hassle as possible, isn’t that what teenagers are supposed to do?
Yes, thirteen…last Saturday when he had gone to bed he was twelve but by Sunday morning he had turned into the spottiest teenager you ever saw! He caught his reflection in the mirror on the dining room wall…zits…everywhere, his face looked like a pepperoni pizza, there wasn’t even space to fit in one of his soggy Rice Krispies.
Upstairs he could hear the toilet flush…then the water running in the hand basin and he knew that in roughly 35.5 seconds the fire breathing dragon would come stamping down the stairs like a rampant bull elephant to start his day off with a rollicking, rip-roaring row! Mrs Beech stood there in her candlewick dressing gown, red faced and spitting words out….”WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE? WHY HAVE YOU NOT SHOWERED? I HOPE YOU HAVE EATEN ALL YOUR BREAKFAST AND BRUSHED YOUR TEETH…….” it was relentless, she was on top form this morning and I’m sure she must have gargled that blue mouthwash in order to produce even more saliva to spit into his cereal bowl as she carried on barking questions.
Right at that moment he hated his mother with a vengeance, she was so horrible to him all the time, even more horrible than Mrs Monkley the maths teacher at North Street Comprehensive where he was one of six hundred pupils. He really did hate her and fantasised about how he would run away and live on his own in a caravan and never have to go to school or take orders from her ever again.
He grabbed his coat and his lunch box and leaving his Rice Krispies bowl on the table in defiance he left, slamming the door so hard that the picture fell off the wall behind the door….”And I’m not coming home….ever again!” he screamed through the letter box….
He walked quickly down the street and around the corner so as to be out of ear-shot if the dragon came to the door and screamed after him, she would do it, just to embarrass him, she had done so many times before. He kicked a fizzy drink can and then kicked it again, dribbling it down the pavement, he imagined he was at the world cup playing striker for England…”he started a commentary, “..and it’s Barry Beech, he’s got the ball on the edge of the box…he picks up his left foot ….he’s on target….and he scores the winning goal!” he kicked the can as hard as he could. In his minds-eye he could see the ball going into the goal…..Gooooaaaaal….shouted the commentator just as the can went crashing into Mrs Monkley’s classic VW Beetle….uh-oh…he was for it now.
He ran away…hoping she hadn’t spotted him and recognised his face. He ran and ran as fast as he could, until he couldn’t find another breath…his lungs were burning and his face was on fire. He hid in the lane until he had calmed down and he thought it was safe to come out. Just then, the town clock struck 9 o clock…..OH NO…I’m late again…that means more detention lunchtime and no footy….how do I always manage to get myself into so much trouble?……..To be continued…… Granny
BLESSED ARE THE STRESSLESS FOR THEY SHALL INHERIT MORE WORK!
Before I start this rant, I must stress that I don’t think I have ever been stressed to the point where I cannot function in my daily life. I have no medical background and I am fully aware of the devastating effect that stress has on the lives of people from all walks of life. I have seen first hand the way that stress affects different people in different ways and I fully sympathise with people who suffer from any kind of mental health problems and the negative reaction of some sections of society to the sufferers.
I am writing this as I am becoming more aware everyday of the high numbers of people who are affected by stress and the effect this has on organisations and workforces up and down the UK. I am not going to quote Government statistics and I am not looking to name, blame or shame anyone, just make observations.
When a member of an organisation goes off sick for whatever reason, there is almost certainly a knock on effect for their co-workers as they have to pick up some of the extra workload not being completed by the absentee. This in turn causes the co-worker to immediately feel under pressure from being overworked and most organisations/businesses can’t afford to pay to take on extra staff to cover. Even if they could, someone within the organisation then needs to train the newbee, therefore exacerbating the situation further.
My own experience tells me that a lot of professionals are now turning up for work when they are still unwell as they are aware of the effect their absence is having on their colleagues, causing even more stress and therefore more staff sickness. The circle is ever increasing until the point of saturation! What can be done?
Surely there needs to be a system of early intervention but more importantly a willingness to support the staff who are struggling to cover their colleagues during their recovery period? Otherwise the unstressed become the stressed and they too go sick….I am getting more stressed even thinking about it!
Just saying……….Granny!
Police Oracle- Performing officer acts up on stage April 20, 2013
- Police complaints system reviewed April 20, 2013
- Officers 'under pressure to do PCCs' bidding' April 19, 2013
