I Have a Theory about Perimenopausal Women and Snakes

Hang with me.

For the last few years — okay, seven years, because nothing is quick and easy in perimeno hell — I have been surrounded by snakes. I find them in my path, or inches off to the side, all the time. One even slithered its nightmare fodder body right over my foot — OVER MY BARE FOOT, PEOPLE! Can you even imagine?

They scare the shit out of me and I hate them, even though I’ve heard they’re cool and beautiful and usually harmless — whatever. I hate them, they scare me.

Now, for many months of the year, I go outside into the big lovely world surrounding my house with a measure of dread. I muster the courage, wear appropriate footwear and tiptoe around, eyes on the ground. They’re everywhere and they’re chasing me. They hear me coming or smell me, or whatever snakes do, and they come running.

I know, you think this is crazy (and crazy is a scientifically proven symptom of this bullshit fucked-up ‘transition’) but I think there’s something going on.

A few years ago, there was a study suggesting that women can detect snakes faster in the pre-menstrual phase of their cycles. The study talks about anxiety and PMS, but my own little interesting takeaway is about hormones and snakes.

I never had a problem with PMS (am being punished by the universe now) and I never really noticed all the snakes. I’d see one occasionally, briefly freak out, move on and forget it. I marched around the world giving no thought at all to snakes.

Now, however, I can’t take ten steps some days without running into a coiled serpent (or sometimes they’re all stretched out long and relaxed like they have no plan at all). My ‘we were supposed to die by now’ hormones have turned me into either a magnificent snake detecting machine or a powerful snake magnet.

You can’t tell me that snakes have been partying in my space all these years and I just haven’t noticed until now. No, something about my whack shit mid-life self is drawing them to me (or me to them, though I can’t imagine a scenario in which I would travel towards a snake). My theory (I think, I’m a little confused about my theory — it’s another symptom) is that women in perimenopause are sending some secret message to the snakes, creating a serpent version of come-hither cologne.

So, if you are a woman and you are between the ages of 30ish and the end of menopause (from 25 years to forever), pay attention. Look down, ladies! The snakes are everywhere and they know about you and I’m not sure what they want, but it can’t be good.

Oh, and an aside, if I may — what mad grand designer has decided that snakes would be a good addition to the misery of perimenopause? It’s like a cruel cosmic joke — let’s take the exhausted, jittery, achy, sad, terrified and rage-filled portion of the population and show them the face of evil on a regular basis.

And a few questions — is there a prize at the other end of this dark perimeno chapter? A superpower, perhaps? (Snake detecting magnet does not count.) Will I be rewarded for my fortitude, my humor in the face of full body/mind crisis, my ability to survive?

Will the snakes leave me alone?