T’was the night before menopause, when all through my bod,
Not a creature moaned or complained more than me, OMG!
The Size 6’s were hung in the closet with care,
In the hopes that Jenny Craig would soon take me there.
My husband was nestled all snug in his bed,
While visions of erotic positions danced in his head.
When out on the lawn, there arose such a clatter
Like when I shoved a Hooter’s waitress, carrying a taco platter.
Away to the window I flew, triggering a hot flash,
Followed by clammy skin, irregular heartbeat, and allergic rash.
(Brain fog made me forget to tear open the shutters and pull up the sash!)
Oh, the moon on the breast of the new fallen snow!
Not to mention my own breasts had sunk to a new low.
When what to my fatigued eyes, who should appear?
But a rich, black, chatty woman and a man wanting to do my pap smear.
This wasn’t the plastic surgeon I ordered or the Avon Lady chick!
I looked closer, recognizing Oprah and Dr. Oz, her sidekick.
Then more rapid than eagles, my troubles came with sharp aim,
And Dr Oz. and Oprah whooped and shouted, calling them by name.
“Now Itchy, Now Bitchy, Now Sweaty And Sleepy,
Now Bloaty, Now Psycho, Forgetful and Weepy.
Onward Insomnia, Moody, and Fibroids So Creepy!
To the Top of the medicine cabinet with your symptom roll-call
Dash away Metamucil, Calgon, Midol, Prozac and Geratol!
Then up to the Ceiling Fan, this pair of Celebrities flew,
Cameras rolling, talk shows and infomercials filming on cue.
Just then in a Twinkling, what did I hear on the roof?
A Sitcom Star more famous than this ridiculous spoof!
As I drew in my muffin top, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ms. Suzanne Somers came with a bound.
She was dressed all in (faux) fur from her head to her (chiseled) thigh,
And she said, “Tis not the Thigh Master that keeps me so spry!”
Bundles of hormones were flung over her (well-toned) back,
With more Bio-Identicals stuffed in her (shapely) fanny pack.
Her eyes, how they sparkled, her dimples how merry,
Her cheeks were like roses, her lips like a cherry.
“Listen,” I interrogated, “Do you still eat Gluten and Dairy??”
“Why are YOU Somebody? Three’s Company went off the air?
If I sound like a Grinch – It’s cuz I just found yet another gray hair.
What did you do with that fat guy and his white beard and round belly?
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.
(And made me feel less guilty when I indulged at the Deli.)
Say, you don’t have a stump of pipe in your teeth,
With smoke that encircles your head like a wreath.
And I betcha a new blonde wig, you wear Spanx underneath!”
I demand someone plump or ugly like ‘Elf on the Shelf,’
Someone who makes me feel better, when I compare myself.
With a wink of her eye, and a twist of her shiny, platinum head,
Suzanne said, “No more Somercizing, you’ve nothing to dread!”
She spoke not another word and went straight to her work,
Filled a few lacy stockings, (with garters) flashing a sexy smirk,
And laid a manicured fingernail aside her cute button nose,
Her mom should warn her about smirking, maybe her face froze?
I sprung to my feet as Dr. Oz and Oprah gave a wolf whistle,
Finally some hope that went beyond Black Cohosh and Milk Thistle!
Who knew that a night of magic with Suzanne, Oprah and Dr. Oz
Would have me feeling so much better about entering Menopause?
And away they all flew, but I heard them exclaim,
“If you listen to us, you’ll be one awesome, hot dame!”
That was the last I saw of those three, as they drove clear outa sight,
“Happy Menopause to all and don’t grow old without a good fight!”
Little Miss Menopause wishes everyone a day free from brain-fog, hot-flashes and weight-gain on December 25th!