Burnin' Love


Burnin' love is a sarcastic title. I've started having hot flashes. Hot flashes are no fun. Not only are hot flashes no fun for me, but they are going to be even less fun because of the trail of mayhem and misery I've left behind because of them. I'm not joking. Repeat. I'm. Not. Joking.
Oh, I hear what you're asking me now! I hear the questions such as: Oh, most precious and beautiful Sheri (you will call me precious and beautiful Sheri from here on out - jeepers it's hot in here - someone open a flippin' window! AAAAAAARRRRRGGG! I ask for so little.) I lost my train of thought. Oh! Right! You were asking me questions about how it could be possible that a very young woman who is only still in her 30's could be having hot flashes. Surely I can't be going into menopause, you ask.
You.
Would.
Be.
Wrong.
Freakin', stupid, chemotherapy has shut down my one last little remaining ovary and has thrown me into menopause. Thankfully I'm extremely moody to go along with having these wicked hot flashes. Example:

Tom: I'm leaving out of here, you want me to leave the ceiling fan on for you?
Me: (thinking to self: are you the only one in the world who gets to enjoy the breeze of a ceiling fan?) (says through clinched teeth): I'm having a hot flash...leave it on.
Tom: What's the difference between being hot and having a hot flash?
Me: (thinking to myself: usually I don't want to find a blunt object and beat you upside the head with it when you ask me questions when I'm just hot) (says through clinched teeth): one minute I'm fine and the next I'm sweating bullets so much so that my clothes are dripping wet.
Tom: Yeah, I guess that would be blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Me: (thinking to myself: where is the closest blunt object)
Tom: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Me: (thinking to myself: I think the last time my underwear felt this wet was the last time I rode the log ride at Six Flags Over Texas.)
Tom: blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah
Me: (looking around at items on table and wondering if hand lotion could be considered a blunt object)
Tom: Sorry you're feeling so poorly.
Me: (thinking to self: that was sweet of him to say...awww) Get! Out! (Geez, did I say that out loud or in my head??? Who cares!?!? How can one person sweat this much??????)

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