T’was the night before menopause, when all through my bod,
Not a creature ached, tingled or burned more than me, OMG!

The Size 6’s were hung in the closet with care,
In 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 platter.

Away to the window I flew, triggering a hot flash,
Followed by clammy skin, irregular heartbeat, and allergic rash.
(Who could think about opening shutters and pulling up the sash?)

Or 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 Dr. Oz and Oprah, his 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 dreadful symptom roll-call
Dash away Metamucil, Calgon, Midol, Prozac and Geratol!

Then up to the Ceiling Fan this pair of Celebrity teachers 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 will ever be this stupid spoof!

As I drew in my muffin top, and was turning around,
Down the chimney Ms. Suzanne Somers came with a bound.

She was dress’d 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 Bioidenticals 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 accused, “Do you still eat Gluten and dairy??”

“And how come you’re here? Three’s Company went off the air?
If I sound like a Grinch — it’s these wrinkles despite good skin care!”

And 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.
(which made me not feel so bad 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 some Clairol, 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 blonde 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 mother never warned about smirking and her face just 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 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 them as they drove outa sight,
Happy Menopause to all and to all a stress-free night!