You will wake in the wee hours, drenched in sweat.
Open Letter to Women
Lisa Renee
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Before my wife entered menopause, I assumed that “hot flashes” and “personal summers” were mental artifacts of hormonal imbalances — very “real” to the participant, of course, but not measurable by any objective observation

The first time she got a hot flash, we were snuggled on the couch. I thought she had gone nuclear. The air shimmered above her. Satellites tasked with mapping rogue IR signatures noted our geo coordinates. Rather than voicing my first reaction (oh my GAWD, woman, what the frak is HAPPENING to you?!) I casually asked, “So… Hot flash?” To which she replied, “Yep. Good thing it’s not a bad one.” Meanwhile even I had started to sweat, since I felt like I was cuddling a 500W heater.

Also, I would occasionally wake up at night to find myself fumbling for the control to our electric blanket, which was never successful since we stopped using ours 15 years ago.

Just a word of caution to the appropriate males who might be reading this.

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