29 April- it ain't pre-men till your pubes change colour

My GP’s surgery called to say to please come in (after a recent blood test) to discuss the results which point to pre-menopause. I laugh hysterically with the receptionist bewildered on the other end of the phone. Is she supposed to say this quite so bluntly? Doesn’t she know that it’s akin to tell me I’ve got leukaemia? She realises her mistake in speaking in lieu of the doctor and hastens to add that the ‘pre’ stage can last years. Great, I shall hold off going on the internet to bamboozle myself with information, but make mental note to ring mother and ask for ages it hit them in the family (her, granny, aunties etc - assuming they talked about these things, which is not necessarily a given and I don’t live near them so didn’t notice manifestly evident effects: mood swings, depression, sweats etc or if I did thought that was pretty normal behaviour) and then work out average.
I do however go to the bathroom to check if suddenly my pubic hair may have gone grey or something. Then remember I have a Hollywood and so won’t see much and what a blessing that is. And before anyone comments, I’ve had versions of Hollywoods, Brazilians and so on for years. Trend lights ahead me, despite no allegiance to any of the industries normally associated with a trim bikini area. Gosh, I have to stop being so circuitious with language. This is a blog diary after all, where else can you call a spade a spade. But, there you go, can’t quite say it.