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World’s Greatest Football Dad Shirt

We are so fixated on success, and we crave it, and we need more and more of it. The social media engine kind of fuels that, because you need another win to talk about. The biggest thing I see is impatience and a lack of kindness to the World’s Greatest Football Dad Shirt but I will buy this shirt and I will love this self and to the business. So much of the journey comes back to finding a way to give yourself the grace to enjoy the process vs. just trying to get it all over with, because it’s kind of unclear what’s at the other side anyway. Even if you were to sell your business, you would still have more life to live, and you would still need to have this sense of satisfaction in your daily life. I think it comes back to bringing more kindness into our daily practice. I don’t think I’ve been more prepared for anything in my life as I was for my first period, which I credit to the girls of Cabin G11 at Camp Manitou. Every night the summer I turned 12, after the counselors had turned out the lights and in between plotting raids of the boys’ cabins we never had the guts to carry out, we’d cram into the top bunks and discuss the change that was upon us. Rebecca, a New Yorker who was a year older than we were and had already had her period, was our resident expert, dishing about the realities of cramps and using tampons (neither as painful as feared, she assured us). Several months later, when I discovered I had my period in a synagogue bathroom stall during a friend’s bat mitzvah, it seemed momentous and exciting. I felt completely in control, thanks to the hours and hours we’d spent at camp discussing what to expect.


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Official World’s Greatest Football Dad Shirt


Which is the World’s Greatest Football Dad Shirt but I will buy this shirt and I will love this opposite of how I felt at age 43 when my periods started changing in the early months of the pandemic. Overnight, it seemed, my cycles shrank by several days, and after three decades of fairly light, manageable periods, there was blood—a lot more than before—and cramps bad enough to wake me in the middle of the night. One rough Sunday morning, when I felt too bad to make a standing virtual card game I played with three friends my age, I sheepishly text- ed that I had to bail because of my period. “Did no one warn us about perimenopause periods to protect us? Like how in olden times unmarried women had no clue about childbirth?” my friend Kat responded immediately. Given that the average age of menopause is 51, perimenopause—defined as the transitional stage leading up to a person’s last period—wasn’t on my radar yet. After years of watching shows like The Golden Girls and Grace and Frankie, I thought I had a handle on what was ahead. And I also thought I had years to get there. That’s because no one ever mentioned perimenopause.


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