The bad part is that I get hit with a mega hot flash during the first ten minutes. Yup. Purple face, full sweat, rolling drops of heat down the forehead. The whole bit. A hot flash for the ages.
And why not, right? Why not end the week as damn crappily as it started? Why not make a complete and total ass in front of thirty people? Every woman in that room knows what is happening, and there isn't a damn thing I can do to stop it. Not one damn thing.
Oh well. It's only ten minutes. The dad who comes to talk to me afterward, though, witnesses the hot flash up close and personal. Holy smokes, and by smokes I do mean I am smoking under the collar from the hot flash that seems to never, ever end.
Did I eat hot peppers before returning to school? No, I ate chicken pot pie. But, I'm older. Leave me alone. Let me melt in peace. Damn school function. Damn middle age. Damn menopause. Damn hot flash. Where's the damn A. Duie Pyle truck when I need him?
Thank God for Friday. Hopefully, I can leave this horrid week behind me.
