ADD a Little Menopause

Ann: As if being ADD isn't challenging enough, now I get to enjoy the delights of menopause with that foggy brain stuff. The double whammy just might be deadly.

Pam: That’s crazy.

Ann: No, I am. That’s the point.

Pam: You can’t blame menopause for crazy unless you were menopausal at 32, ‘cuz you’ve been crazy as long as I’ve known you. Either way, I doubt it’s deadly.

Ann: Well, if not deadly, it’s at least embarrassing. I feel like Dory in Finding Nemo. You won’t believe what I did yesterday.

Pam: Oh, I bet I will. I’ve known you a loooong time, remember?

Ann: If I could remember, I wouldn’t have this story to tell.


Pam: So how do you remember the story?

Ann: If you keep interrupting me I won’t.

Pam: Sorry, I forgot about your ADD thing.

Ann: Now who’s foggy brained? So what’s your excuse?

Pam: My excuse? As usual, I’m lost in the fog of your meandering mind. Here… take my hand… follow me back. What happened yesterday?

Ann: Gimme a minute… oh yeah. Yesterday was the annual mother/daughter fashion show for Hannah’s high school. We’ve never gone before but since the seniors and their moms do the modeling, we decided to go this year. I’m glad we did, by the way.

Pam: Yeah, I’m sure it made for a wonderful and sentimental memory for you to forget.

Ann: Trust me, I won’t likely forget this one. But not for the mother/daughter moment. I still haven’t told you what happened.

Remember the other night when we went to try on the clothes we were modeling? They gave Hannah a headband and necklace to go with her dress but we decided to wear our own earrings. It was great because all we had to do was show up at the hotel and all the stuff was there waiting for us.

Pam: The perfect setup for a menopausal woman with ADD.

Ann: You’d think, but hold on. The dress I was modeling was black and white so I decided to wear my pearl earrings. While I was putting them on, Hannah came in to borrow some earrings to match her dress and off we went.

We roamed around the hotel for awhile checking things out and talking to all our friends. We finally got to the room where we were supposed to change clothes. As I was dressing, I realized I was wearing only one earring.

Pam: Oh no! You lost one of your good pearl earrings?

Ann: Yeah, I was pretty bummed. Several of the moms helped me look around. We were all on our hands and knees in the changing room looking under tables and chairs. Some even backtracked with me, but since I’d been all over the place, we figured it was hopeless.

Pam: So what’d ya do?

Ann: I covered the naked ear with my hair and tried not to obsess about it. I still felt kind of silly.

Pam: That’s really a bummer. But it’s not that embarrassing. And I don’t see how it makes you crazy. Everybody loses things.

Ann: Well, in this case, the only thing I lost was my self-assurance. When I got home, I went to put away my lone pearl earring and there, in the black velvet box, was the missing one.

Pam: You mean you never put it on in the first place?

Ann: Brilliant deduction. I had been putting on my left earring when Hannah came in and I never got around to the right one.

Pam: Did you tell those poor women with the rug-burned knees?

Ann: Not a chance. Do you think I’m crazy?

Pam: Wasn’t that the moral of the story?

Ann: No, the moral of the story is never interrupt a menopausal woman with ADD.