|menopausal brain fog|
or... if you've happened upon this blog from a certain American healthscore site - a guide to the interior state of the Greenpatch head: stuffed full of cotton wool. (Stats make such fascinating reading, don't they - and I'm not talking about my waistline here, either! )
Going back to my stats, if brainfog or The Seven Dwarves of The Menopause mean little to you, maybe you've reached Growing Greenpatches via a search on organic gardening, in which case do feel free to use my artistic efforts for your next article on rare strains of potato. Or for that matter Global Warming; It's Not Easy Being Green, is it? And as most of us who're battling The Change can certify, gaseous emissions can become if not exactly old friends, certainly frequent visitors.
All of which is a roundabout way of saying that the combo of humidity, hot weather, post -meno aches and pains and fluctuating hormone levels combined yesterday to give me a touch of woolly headedness; meteorologically more light mist than pea-souper to be sure, but enough to make me feel as if I'd been bopped over the head with a a hammer.
Which is why late morning found me in the cafe at BHS, trying to blast myself into gear with the help of a strong Americano before going on to meet with my spiritual director. Whilst being crisp and to the point has never been one of my giftings; even I can appreciate that directors aren't mind readers and that a wee bit more focus might be needed. Though utterances like ummmmmmm? wassat? and bleahhhhh (!) might sound profound, they don't really give the poor listener much to work with. Let's face it; if the Almighty had had a touch of the hot flushes and pea soupers on the 6th Day, we'd be in a sorry state by now!
So, in the interests of letting off steam and for all you Power -Surgers everywhere, here's one of my favourite comedian's take on Matters Menopausal: Victoria Wood: Menopause and health food shops.
Now...where was I...?