If you don't get the reference, I suggest you run your little self to the nearest Blockbuster, rent a copy of the campy and amazing cheerleading flick, "Bring it on." Then proceed to dust off your spanky pants and enjoy.
Hot, you say? Sure it's hot- it's called summer in Atlanta. No my dears, that is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the raging hot flashes that are happening to me, even when the thermostat is set at 68 degrees.
Hot flashes suck. Except for my first night of chemo, I have been lucky to miss out on them during treatment. Unfortunately, they are coming on big style now. This scares me on numerous levels. First of all, I am afraid of my next electric bill. I am afraid I will scare someone by ripping my wig or hat off in the middle of an inopportune moment. I am also afraid that my dogs will lick my sweaty head in the middle of the night.
Most importantly, I am afraid of chemopause. I am afraid the hot flashes are a sign of what I've been trying to avoid. TMI WARNING: I've been lucky so far. I've had a couple of periods and am eagerly awaiting the next. Any day now. But when I have the hot flashes, I worry that my baby making machine is closing for business. Chemopause can be temporary and it can hit even after chemo. It can also happen while on hormone treatment. Other than being fatty mcchubby, menopause is the big worry. While I can revel in the money saved on tampons, I fear the money spent on IVF.
So I will hope the hot flashes, like potential chemopause, are temporary. I will walk around my house without pants because they are so damn hot, I will apologize to my husband when he's freezing and I'm screaming, "colder, colder."
I will suck it up. Meanwhile, I know the fall collections are in stores, but please refrain from sending me sweaters.
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