I’ve done a lot of difficult things in my life like living in a foreign country alone; giving up smoking (I stopped over 12 years ago); I stopped drinking wonderful wines and martinis with extra olives; dating European men; and finally, admitting that the problems in my relationships over the years was actually me, and not always them.
However, not having complete control over one’s body is the most difficult of them all. Perimenopause, which isn’t even the ‘’real’’ thing, is just the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced – that is, if you don’t count the Argentinean photographer I dated who, I’m certain, suffered from ADD, or the Italian fisherman who discovered that I was the ‘’love-of-his-life’’ ten-years after we broke up. But, I digress. Without warning, my body starts burning up as though someone put me in a fur coat, covered me in tin foil, then put me under the broiler for ten seconds. Then, the tears start flowing for no apparent reason as I curl up into the fetal position and take a nap. This is usually the time some teenager sitting next to me in class stops texting long enough to lean over and whisper in my ear, ‘’are you feeling alright Mrs. Anderson?’’
It’s hard enough being a student at the best of times, but at the worst of times, it can feel like you’re in a bad movie with a moody director (your body) who has an emotional breakdown at every scene. Like any skilled actress, I have learned to cosset that ‘’director’’ in order to make it through to the next ‘’classroom’’ scene. But, make-it-through I do, and off to university I go armed with Pell Grants, university awards, student loans, and scholarships.
I have a front seat on the ‘’Higher Education Express,’’ and I am sitting in the senior citizen section. Woo Hoo!
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