The next strange awareness I had was that I seemed to be warmer than usual—constantly. It was the beginning of summer, so at first, I just assumed that was the reason. But then I started to perspire in weird places, like the backs of my knees and the tops of my thighs, and at weird times, like in the evening when it wasn’t really that warm out anymore. And now those odd women at the gym in my Cardio Dance Party classes who always demanded the overhead fans be turned on didn’t seem so odd anymore. In fact, now I would high-five them when they did so.
It was clearly time for me to do another survey. At first, I was really against holding a conversation using any “perimenopausal” vernacular. I reluctantly talked to one of my best friends, Cordelia (60), about the “F” word (hot FLASH). She assured me there would be no mistaking it if I were having a hot flash. She said it would feel like this Mount Vesuvius burning sensation coming up through me like a volcano. I had not experienced anything like that, so I breathed a sigh of relief. This perimenopause thing was just in my head.
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