My Menopause Blog: From Mrs. Santa Claus

To Ms Richards,

Well aren't you the bearer of glad bloody tidings! Ho, Ho, Ho, and jingle bells to you, you, you....menopausal maniac. What gives you the right to upset our happy north pole home with talk of a respectful, vertical relationship with my husband of so many decades I've lost track.

I mean, I know he gets bags of mail from girls claiming to be good and I'm not stupid enough to overlook the fact that he does stay out all night. I smell the milk on his breath in the morning. His beard is caked with cookie crumbs. The man sleeps for a whole week afterwards. He's spent. Wasted. Totally done in.

But, lingerie? A snow mobile? Good grief woman. I get baking sheets from him every year. No wonder he's FAT.

But not anymore. You'll be seeing one skinny Santa next year. No more flour, butter, sugar for Mr. Jolly, ring my bell, hark ye stupid angels, Claus. From this point forward, buddy boy is on a diet! Soon as he shows his twinkling little eyes in the house again. The cowards out sleeping with those stinking animals. Stupid man. Whatever was he thinking?

If your intention is to be a home wrecker, then you're good...very good at fulfilling your goal. But if you have a shred of decency, please show us some kindness and back off!

From: Not so Mrs. Merry Clause.

Tag: menopause