I told my first husband that whenever I wore red shoes it was a warning that I was having PMS (premenstrual syndrome). When he saw me in red shoes, he knew that he should stay far away. Although I don’t have him anymore, I still get those days when everything is not going my way. I also have times where no one likes me. I often cry without good reasons. My husband was a frequent traveler for work and wasn’t always able to see my mood swings during red shoes week. He changed jobs within the company, and began spending more time at his home. That was when our marriage started to fall apart. It was his inability to cope with an unreasonable woman, and I am blaming the red shoes. He is not responsible. Every grammar school should require that boys take a class in proper PMS protocol before they become men and start trying to “fix” a temporarily fragmented female. It is important that they are aware of the futility of their efforts so that women don’t become more frustrated by them giving unwelcome advice. Boys should instead be taught how to invest in camping gear or find 100 different ways to sleep on the couch. Although my husband is now a better person, I feel that his wife was the one who taught him this. The credit is not mine. He just “knows” when it’s time to go play golf or make an appointment with the shrink-for himself, not me. It’s fine. It’s just that I am a woman who is going through the menopause/PMS merry-go round.
As I enter my fifties, not only do I suffer from PMS, but I also experience symptoms of early women’s onset, complete with PTM. That’s French for “hot flashes” in case anyone of the male gender is reading this and doesn’t understand why your female friend was fanning herself with the leather-bound menu at that 5-star restaurant you took her to. This is the place that I am referring to. Although you thought she would be happy to take you there, her first instinct was that she had consumed too much red wine. By the time you brought her home, she was already asleep.
For middle-aged, wiser and more experienced women, having this dual diagnosis, is like having PMS all the time with a bonus week of “red shoe time” each month. You can’t tell if my temper tantrums stem from PMS or repressed anger issues. I used to be so dependent on everyone and was very kind when younger. It’s likely both. I am thinking about dyeing my feet red. Although the red nail polish on my toes is chipped, it doesn’t communicate my message.
Let’s not forget about the wedding bands. It’s red shoe week, and my thoughts are somewhat scattered. My wedding band is hard to remember. It’s easy to take it off, forget where it was and then put it back. For me, forgetfulness may also be part of the menopause. This was something I wasn’t like in my thirties. Since I got married, I have gained some weight (ok, maybe 30). The band has become too restrictive and tight, just like marital relationships in general. Some days I feel incapable of putting in the time and effort to maintain a healthy relationship with someone I hate. My second husband laughs when I am having an episode. Perhaps I forget the ring. The ring does signal that I am not available, and I may forget to wear it at times. If I’m going to wear a ring that says, “Keep Away” I may as well wear a toe ring. My toes are not a problem.