I told The Husband to fuck off and I liked it.

According to my Dr I am nearing “that age”

I was on the contraceptive pill but it made me grumpy so I wanted to stop taking it, Dr just happened to mention that it may not be the pill causing my grumpiness. How lucky was he that I didn’t have the time to kill him there and then?

You see, I am peri-menopausal. I didn’t know you could be peri-menopausal. I asked my mum. I don’t know why I asked her as this is the woman that once told me there was no such thing as ovulation in her day so, as expected, she’d never been peri anything.

I think peri is the bit before full on crazy, the bit where things hurt a little but not too much, the bit where you forget some stuff but remember your kids names and where you hid the chocolate. This is the before bit.

Now, aside from the weirdness, there is a surprising and most welcome symptom of the peri-menopause.

I say stuff, stuff I wouldn’t usually say.

I’m one of those people that keep mum, I can’t see the point in causing a row over the little things but then the little things mount up until I want someone dead, right now! But, I have noticed recently that I can’t keep my mouth shut.

For example, one evening The Husband left rice in the sink and once upon a time I would have plotted his demise in my head, I would have cleared it up whilst hating him quietly, to  myself. Not now. Now I say “Is that rice staying there?” and in minutes the rice is gone, as if by magic.

Another evening The Husband made fun of my new job, I work two/three days a month and he boobed by chuckling at my meagre wages. Now, for the record, he’s not bothered about my wages nor is he concerned about whether I work or not, so long as I’m cheery he’s cheery. This was just a “little banter in the kitchen” but it got me all cross, probably because I’m heading into Crazyville but still, I was niggled.

Now, there was a time where I would have thought about this and thought about this until I came to the conclusion that what he meant was that I didn’t work enough and then I would have been pissed about all the stuff I do daily that I don’t get paid for and even more pissed at how he clearly doesn’t appreciate this, blah blah blah. All of this would have been bollocks but still, I would have been cross, silently cross but no more, H.M.S. Politeness has long since sailed.

“Oh fuck off!” said I.

Oh my, it was amazing, it felt amazing. I was done. No need for humpiness, no planning how to poison him or wondering whether I would know which was the brake cable, I didn’t get niggled. I still liked him. I’d said my bit and that was that. It was a tiny miracle.

All I’ve got to do now is pray that The Husband never becomes peri-menopausal. Both of us saying what we really think when we really think it? Wouldn’t that be fun?





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