Larry, Moe & Curly.
Janet, Jack & Chrissy.
Yadda, yadda, yadda.
Famous threesomes pervade our culture. Third time’s the charm. Bad luck comes in threes. Two’s company, three’s a crowd.
I’d like to forget the newest threesome that’s entered my life, and, no, it doesn’t have anything to do with Brad Pitt.
May I introduce to you my recent and not so enjoyable acquaintances — Peri, Meno and Poochy!
No, they are not part of the latest adorable, cuddly toddler cartoon.
They are PERI/MENO-pause and POOCHY, my 40-something midriff. I figured if my “puffy tummy” (as PunditGirl calls it) was going to have such a prominent, but I’m hoping temporary, place in my life, perhaps it should have name!
I’ve heard a lot about Peri and Meno, but they’re not the kind of gal pals I was looking for. Actually, they’re the kind of companions I try to avoid — you know, like the moms in the ultra-skinny jeans or the ones whose kids are perfect.
My doctor tells me this relatively new relationship is unavoidable and that it’s MY responsibility to embrace the change needed so that when Peri takes her leave and it’s just Meno and me, that I’ll be strong enough to deal with her and keep Poochy at bay.
Now, I’ve NEVER been a fan of the whole exercise route. I’ve spent more years than I care to admit managing this love/hate relationship with cardiovascular activity. Why spend time on the treadmill when there’s so much fun stuff to be done!
I did go down the personal trainer road for a while last year, but I’m not a routinized kind of gal. But apparently, I’d better make friends with some workout schedule I can learn to love, or at least tolerate, so I won’t look like this when I’m 60-something.
So, Peri and Meno, I’ll take the advice and make some room in my life to accommodate your needs, but Poochy, I’m afraid you’re going to have to go, because some may say Three’s Company, but not when it’s the three of you!