Mentally Stable-ish

I’m stable-ish, like a wobbly chair,

One wrong move and I’m swearing mid-air.

Zen on the surface, chaos within,

But hey, at least I moisturize my sin.

I’m transparent as glass, yet a mystery too,

Oversharing my truths like a therapy guru.

I’ll cry in the pantry, then post a wise quote,

“Just breathe,” I’ll advise, while stress-eating my oats.

I’m contoured like Vegas, cheekbones on parade,

But catch me at midnight, my face half-decayed.

Bronzer and highlight, a desperate art,

I sculpt my fatigue as my jeans split apart.

I’m skinny but flabby, toned-ish and tense,

My abs are a rumor, my back fat’s immense.

Not hot but still flashing, sweating for free,

Mother Nature’s joke, and the punchline is me.

I’m the “cool mom,” or so I’ve proclaimed,

But the music’s too loud, and my slang is just…lame.

My kids roll their eyes, “God, Mom, you’re so cringe.”

Yet still come for hugs when their lives unhinge.

I’m wise and I’m weary, both tender and tough,

A mess and a miracle, sometimes not enough.

But here I stand, sparkly crown a bit bent,

Still figuring life out with sarcasm well-spent.

Join me on the next chapter of my journey, a new blog called Mentally Stable-ish™. It tells the hard truths and hilarity of hormones and hot flashes with humor and honesty. A sweaty and sarcastic, survival guide to menopause, motherhood and midlife mayhem in the modern era.

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