Evidentially, I have reached the ripened age of internal combustion…at least that’s what it feels like… spontaneous waves of fire that completely take over my body from the inside out. There’s no rhyme or reason for their onset. They aren’t driven by the consumption of spicy food and they are unaffected by the amount of clothing I wear or do not wear. In fact, I have rapidly stripped down to nothing but my undies in the middle of the kitchen and the heat remained constant.
Thankfully, they only last for a matter of seconds, but oh, are those seconds intense! My face flushes bright red and my neck gets instantly clammy with sweat. In fact, my entire body becomes sweaty as the wave of heat runs from my toes to my head, burning hotter and hotter with every inch it covers; until I finally dive for the freezer, thrust open the door and try to cram as much of myself inside as I can. All the while, leaving a trail of clothing behind.
When the heat subsides and I crawl out of the freezer, the chills begin. There I stand, half-naked and dripping with sweat, but freezing. It’s the strangest phenomenon. One moment I’m screaming, “I’m so hot!” And the next, I’m moaning and shaking, “I’m too cold.”
My husband cocks his head to the side, puzzled by the broad range of my temperature and feeling the urge to explain to me that the temperature in the room hasn’t changed. This doesn’t help.
I scramble back into my clothing, throw a fleece on top and mumble under my breath how men get off easy, not having to have periods, go through labor or endure hot flashes.
He grins as if I’ve just performed a comedic showcase, while I roll my eyes and stomp out of the room.
I’ve concluded that hot flashes are God’s way of reminding me that I should behave… because it’s too hot for me in hell. ~