Oh, the power of the patch!!! Like
a bottle to a baby, putting on my estrogen patch finally shut me up!!! About
twenty minutes after the silver-dollar size thin sticky film hit my ass, I was
Ms. Congeniality. I made no more death threats to anyone that dared to breathe
around me. It was as if the heavens opened up and angles swung down, took me in
their arms and we flew through the clouds like beautiful birds. OK, well maybe that
part was the pain meds, not the patch, but whatever… I was back on the road to
“normal” So I thought!After a hysterectomy I’ll be honest, it takes some getting used to. I’m not sure what happened to my skin? I looked 17 again… but not in the good way. My face broke out with underground land mines. Just days after my hysterectomy there were red painful zits big enough to blow up Texas all over my 40 Something Year Old face! And I’m not sure what hormone infested bug flow up my bee-hive but my beautiful long hair went from string straight to curly-kinky blonde…and again I don’t mean in the good way.
And just the other day, I was driving down the street and looked over
to the passenger seat and noticed something stuck to the back of the seat…? I
reached over to touch whatever it was…and I’ll be damned if it wasn’t my
estrogen patch. How the hell it got from my ass to the front seat of my car is
a bigger mystery than how my father has managed to get married six times. I
could see how the patch may have ended-up on the driver’s seat…if I actually drove
my car naked. But since I’ve always driven fully clothed, I was baffled. Well... there
was that one exception…I had a major hot flash right before my surgery. I swear
it felt 190 degrees when suddenly a wave of fire burning hormones flooded my body
as I was driving up to Los Angeles. There was nothing I could do but pull over
and whip my top off… and no, I don’t drive a convertible.
I was safely parked on the side of the 405 freeway on a Friday late afternoon so it wasn’t like anyone was driving faster than a tortoise on Quaaludes. I wasn't concerned with anyone seeing me without my clothes after all it was Los Angeles. So once I was off on the shoulder of the freeway I quickly pulled my T-Shirt over my head, cranked the air-conditioning and leaned directly into the cold air and lifted my bra to cool off the girls. That’s when the adorable LA Sherriff or Police Officer, or hell- it could have of been an actor preparing for a part as a security guard for all I know but he was young and looked hot in his starched blue uniform. He leaned down to knock on my window, “Ms, Ms, are you OK?...Oh, Wow! Ms. You're going to have to put your clothes back on-Please!” He said with a smile and checks cherry red. “I will as soon as I stop having a hot flash -Officer Cutie” I said as I continued to fan my Ta-Ta's with the cool air. It seemed that Officer Cutie wasn't quite sure what to say to that so he turned and hightailed it back to his squad car, turned his siren on and forced his way back on to the freeway. I guess he knew it was safer to be in the middle of crazy LA drivers on a Friday than to mess with a woman half naked dealing with a power-surge. Smart move on his part. Later that night I fantasized about him and me playing with his handcuffs…It was a lot like “50 Shades of Blue!”
So I still don’t have a clue how that dang estrogen patch got on the passenger
seat of my car? Although I do remember this one time
when I was still getting use to putting a new patch on every Saturday morning-I
tried to peel off the plastic on the back of the patch without it sticking to
my leg or everywhere but my tushie. But half a sleep I peeled off the
protective backing and slapped it on my derrière and dropped the actual patch in the
trash…It wasn’t until much later that day when I felt something poking my ankle.
I sat down at the gym and took my sneaker and sock off my right foot and that’s
when I found the plastic back of the patch stuck to the side of my heel. To my
dismay I also found the actual patch stuck to the side of the waste can in my
bathroom a few hours later…which still doesn’t answer the question…”How did my estrogen patch get from my ass
to the front passenger seat of my car?”I was safely parked on the side of the 405 freeway on a Friday late afternoon so it wasn’t like anyone was driving faster than a tortoise on Quaaludes. I wasn't concerned with anyone seeing me without my clothes after all it was Los Angeles. So once I was off on the shoulder of the freeway I quickly pulled my T-Shirt over my head, cranked the air-conditioning and leaned directly into the cold air and lifted my bra to cool off the girls. That’s when the adorable LA Sherriff or Police Officer, or hell- it could have of been an actor preparing for a part as a security guard for all I know but he was young and looked hot in his starched blue uniform. He leaned down to knock on my window, “Ms, Ms, are you OK?...Oh, Wow! Ms. You're going to have to put your clothes back on-Please!” He said with a smile and checks cherry red. “I will as soon as I stop having a hot flash -Officer Cutie” I said as I continued to fan my Ta-Ta's with the cool air. It seemed that Officer Cutie wasn't quite sure what to say to that so he turned and hightailed it back to his squad car, turned his siren on and forced his way back on to the freeway. I guess he knew it was safer to be in the middle of crazy LA drivers on a Friday than to mess with a woman half naked dealing with a power-surge. Smart move on his part. Later that night I fantasized about him and me playing with his handcuffs…It was a lot like “50 Shades of Blue!”
