Oh my goodness!
I believe that there are some experiences in life that can not be explained with words or pictures. Although an explanation might thoroughly cover the topic, the full thrust is never quite conveyed. Those are the moments that one must experience first hand in order to fully appreciate all that it encompasses.
Redheads are in the minority. Some people actually hate red hair, so I guess it is lucky for them that they don’t have to see that many redheads. I know quite a bit about being a redhead since it is one of those things that I experience first hand every day of my life.
Usually a redhead has fair skin that won’t tan and thus the title of PALE also accompanies them throughout their life. Once again, that is my curse and if you looked like I do at the beach, you would think it was a curse too. I have a great attitude about it most of the time and have even incorporated my paleness into my nickname. The way I look at it now is that I rather have pale skin than not have any skin at all. Have you ever thought of it that way? I bet not probably because you are tan, but that’s okay….Some day my freckles are all going to have a reunion and I’m going to have a tan index finger.
There are many reasons for being hot and in the summer months when the temperatures are soaring into the triple digits, it just makes it more uncomfortable if there are other things that are adding to the heat too. For example, pregnant women are carrying an extra amount of weight with a huge hormonal orchestra going on in their body, so adding sweltering heat to the mix isn’t very pleasant. Just thinking about being pregnant at all during this stage of my life causes my temperature to blast to the top of the thermometer.
At the end of July, the temperature has been almost more than I could tolerate. If it wasn’t for a great air conditioner at work and home, I would surely just not make it through the day.
I am the ultimate pale skinned, redheaded wimp with allergies, the inability to sweat, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera (Make sure you read that the way Yul Brenner said it in the movie The King and I. You can go back and try it again. I’ll wait for you.)
Being a bit older has afforded me time to learn all kinds of things. In preparation for the winter of my life, I’ve read all about menopause. Parts of it sound just maaaaa-rvelous darrrr-ling, but other aspects of that great change seem rather dreadful! I’m choosing to dwell on the positive, however, last night it was rather difficult to think about anything except the heat.
I usually fall asleep in thirty seconds which aggravates everyone. I haven’t totally figured that one out yet. I was blogging in my Terrier pajamas my sister gave me (I’m no vision from Victoria Secret that’s for sure) and enjoying the lovely air conditioning as the weatherman on television proclaimed that we lived through a scorcher. I personally think the word wasn’t strong enough, but my mother told me not to say the words I’d like to use.
Finally, it was bedtime and I plopped into bed, closed my eyes and knew that sleep was about to pull me into the soft flowing folds of oblivion. Much to my surprise, I felt hot (not like passionate or gorgeous), but hot like I was going to spontaneously combust! Heat permeated the cloth of my pajamas and the sheets. I ripped the blankets off and sat up thinking I was about to be sick.
Nope. I wasn’t nauseated at all. I was just hot and I mean hot like the inside of the lava core found at the center of the Earth. The heat waves were spewing off my skin like a volcanic eruption times one hundred.
As I tore my pajamas off in a frenzy to release some of the unbearable heat, I decided that I hate men. That gender not only doesn’t suffer years of a “friend” that totally wrecks every special occasion, but they snore through the atomic heat bomb women suffer when their friend decides she doesn’t like or need you any more.
There I lay, emitting enough heat to peel the paint off the ceiling over my bed and wishing that the overhead fan generated enough wind to blow the blankets completely off the bed, totally naked.
Since the heat was emanating from the inside out, I knew there was only one way I was going to find any relief at all.
It’s best to be naked in bed, eating ice cream that has been slathered with chocolate syrup and whipped cream, when the furnace within you is hot enough to keep Canada, Denmark and Siberia warm in the winter .
Your Menopausal Maven,