|Me. On fire. Somebody bring me some water.|
Sweet baby Moses on a Cheeto!! I was sick this past weekend and it's like some switch from the depths of hell was flipped on. I went from mocking my next door neighbor's hot flashes (her house so cold you could hang meat inside) to trying to break INTO her meat locker to get some relief. It's HOT, boys and girls. H.O.T. hot. Piping hot. Steaming hot. Burrrrrrrning hot. And there doesn't seem to be any relief! I take comfort in knowing that it's September and the August heat will soon be but a memory and the freezing cold gales of November will hopefully come early to my little burg. Because Damn.
I used to wake up in the morning with my shirt wet, obviously suffering from a hot flash at some point during the night but not bad enough to wake me up. Now there are flames shooting out of my armpits. There's smoke smouldering out of my ears. The sweat under my boobs so bad that water is pooling in my bra. I could wring that bitch out. This is no joke, my friends. This is not a drill. I am on red alert, literally.
I think I'm starting to enter menopause and it ain't pretty. You'd think with as sweaty as I've been all damn weekend, I'd sweat off a few pounds. Being me is like living inside a sauna with a campfire in the middle, and I'm the marshmallow, roasting on the stick. I'd love to hang out and give you more details about how goddamn hot I am, but I need to go take another freaking shower.
This sucks. That is all for now.