Sunday, 22 November 2015

The one wherein i complain about sweating (and granny knickers)

I hate this sweating.
It's totally ridiculous; sweat running down my face, neck, chest like a mini Niagara Falls. No longer can I cheer myself up by slapping on the make up or messing with my hair. It's pointless because before I've even finished the final sweep of lippy, the whole lot is melting causing my face to resemble a child's painting, or an artist's palette where the colours have ran into each other, a muddy mess. False lashes lose their stick and hang off eyelids like dead millipedes, while my hair clings damp and limp on my wet scalp.

No longer do I open the wardrobe and randomly pick an outfit for the moment. Not that any of my clothes from twelve months ago would fit me anymore;  I've gone from size 10/12 to 14/16 thanks to medications and enforced inactivity. 
Now my wardrobe holds few basic things in natural fibres. Cotton. Cotton mixes. Linen. More expensive than the man made materials and less to find going cheap in the charity shops. I have more pyjamas than clothes, I'm not ashamed to say i practically live in pyjamas (well, i am ashamed really but i like to pretend I'm not),  far more comfy to wear and easier to wash and dry.
Having such health issues like fibromyalgia means practical thinking. Out have gone corsets, Basques, stockings and suspenders. No more six inch stiletto pleaser shoes. Goodbye thigh high leather boots with the high heels and long long zips. Hello flats, elasticated waists, leggings, extra large loose tops, yoga style bra tops and granny knickers. And pyjamas!

Goodbye femininity. Hello boring old woman!

It's embarrassing.
Sweating in public causes people to look sideways at you, some with amusement others with a look bordering on fear. My attempt at humour "it's OK it's not Ebola" fell with a resounding echo in the halls of failed jokes. 
I'm sick to the back teeth of people, including my doctor who really should know better, assuming I'm having a menopausal hot flush. I want to scream "Ffs! I'm a decade past my menopause, it's not that. I've had my hot flushes and even those weren't like this!" But I don't because I know from experience it just causes people, including my doctor who honestly really should know better, to smugly smile. Because everyone knows better than I do - I'm just a boring fibromyalgia suffering old crone.

Did I say I hate this sweating? 

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