Curse of the Werewolf

What is wrong with me I have been floating around in a fog, sometimes of despair other times euphoria but no lasting happy medium of normality. Why? Well I am at that difficult age where the hormones decrease causing mood swings which over time can wreck your life and anyone else’s within shouting distance, if you are all lucky enough to survive this you can hopefully come out the other end more understanding (your spouse) and move on but you are it seems always on the precipice.

Once the depletion of the hormones has settled you then realise that your body is less female and facial hair has started sprouting overnight causing yet more misery so the semblance of normality that the whole family has begun to enjoy is swiftly replaced by anger at turning into the lady with the wrinkles and beard. As a child I thought the bearded lady was a myth just made up to make money.

My first awareness of the invasion of long black hairs was pointed out by a friend who asked had I not looked in the mirror lately, I explained when you reach a certain age mirror hogging was no longer a hobby. Maybe you should she explained as she tugged at the bunch of black hairs that had appeared from nowhere on the side of my face. I was horrified how many others had seen them and not mentioned it to me for fear of embarrassing me, how long had they languished there.

Surely on the odd occasion when I have ventured towards a mirror wouldn’t they have stood out, was my eyesight also failing, what other damage can lack of hormones do to you. Looking in the mirror in her office she was right, they stood out like sore thumbs.

‘Have you any tweezers she asks I will pull them for you’ No I reply I didn’t realise I should need to carry the equivalent of my husbands grooming kit alongside everything else in my bag just in case a bunch of rogue hairs appears. As we had access to dressing packs we rummaged through and found some big plastic tweezers they were not suitable to grasp one hair let alone a bunch so in desperation we cut them off leaving a bunch of stubble, which in fact probably looked worse. She was trying desperately hard not to laugh as she could see how mortified I was especially as I had always prided myself on looking as well turned out as I possibly could under the aging process and had always felt that I was succeeding.

I did point out to her that it was no laughing matter and that it would only be a matter of time before she experienced the same, a long time admittedly but it would happen nonetheless. Then of course there is the little matter of the bulging midriff, which also comes with the depletion of the female hormones. So I was turning into an unshaven middle-aged slob. No longer the woman my husband had fallen in love with, they say love is blind and it is at this time of your life you really hope that is true.

To be continued….. I have to shave!