From Pizza to Prune Juice to Pizza

During the months when I consistently...and I do mean "Consistently" got my period, I would allow myself during the first two days of my monthly "time" to eat anything I wanted. I figured that if I was bleeding then I needed to re-supply my body with something. I couldn't very well go to the local hospital and ask for a couple of pints of A-Positive blood to guzzle with my morning oatmeal in order to replace the blood I was loosing now could I?

So instead, I re-supplemented with an order of french fries or an onion bagel with cream cheese or a Three Muskateer's Bar or my favorite, pizza! Not just any pizza, it had to be thin crust (therefore justifying eating the combo of flour and water) with pepperoni and pineapple and light on the cheese. And I got the individual pizza, the one that is cut up into six small-ish slices.

"Not too bad," I would say to myself. I would justify being able to eat pizza because I was bleeding and it was a small pizza. The normal person would probably eat only two or three pieces and save the rest for a future meal but what the hell...I was bleeding...so I would eat the whole thing.

It was toward the end of last year that I had my first internal run-in with pizza. Maybe because at that time, I wasn't bleeding. Maybe it was because it was pizza from a restaurant in McKinnleyville or maybe it was because that the combo of cheese, pizza crust (flour and water) and the other stuff just didn't digest like it used to. Whatever the reason, it took days before the pizza finally made its way out of my body and into the sewer system...even with some help from prune juice.

After that very, VERY uncomfortable experience...I no longer ate pizza. Until a few days ago, that is.

We had a guest from couchsurfing.com and he wanted pizza. Who could blame him? After all, he was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail from start to finish. He deserved pizza. He deserved to eat an entire pizza all to himself but on that night, we all shared a pizza. The next day my system went into hyper-yuk.

You know that video that has recently been making the rounds on YouTube where hundreds of baseball-size hail spearing down from the sky landed into some guys pool somewhere in the midwest? That's how my stomach felt the day after I ate pizza.

Has menopause put a kabash on my ever eating pizza again?

So of course the next day I had to down gobs of prune juice (aka PJ) but guess what? The PJ made me sick to my stomach. Not quite, head-hanging-over-the-toilet-bowl-sick...just gross.

And to prove a point to myself (because the second half of my life will be all about proving points to myself) I had to order another thin-crust pizza with pepperoni and pineapple. And I ate the whole, individual thing.

And...well...you can guess what happened next.

No more pizza. No more periods on a regular basis. No more eating what I want, when I want.

What next!?!?