From Chicken Soup for the Soul in Menopause

The Hormone Patch

This patch is doing wonders for my hormones.

At night I simply stick it on my tum.

One morning I was frantically searching,

Then I saw it there, stuck on his bum.

I tried to gently peel and not disturb him.

But firmly it was stuck, then he woke.

He jumped up late for work and started dressing,

Unaware of my own private joke.

Being late made him cranky and angry.

He snapped when I offered him food.

The door slammed, as I sat in my nightie,

Wondering if my patch would help his mood.

All day I couldn’t help but giggle

As I thought of my patch in its place.

If only they could see through pinstripe,

That would sure put a smile on each face.

Pulling into the driveway, I was eager

To see how his day had turned out.

But instead of his usual greeting,

He started kicking his briefcase about.

He ranted his day had been awful!

And he thought that he must have the flu.

In the office he’d had twenty-seven hot flushes,

And tearfully ran to the loo.

His voice seemed a slight octave higher

As I sympathetically felt his head.

He announced to us all he had a migraine,

And in my slippers he flounced off to bed.

That night I removed the offending item.

I told the kids no longer to hide.

Tomorrow Dad would be back to normal;

He had just been in touch with his feminine side.

Louise Kelman

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