For a long long time, I have cycled with the moon. It makes me feel powerful. Like my own body can be in tune with the pull of gravity from moon to earth. How lovely. I am alive and strong and connected to all living things.
Except when I'm not.
I am pre-menstrual. Yep. I'm just putting it out there. And I know you can handle it readers, because either you are women or you intimately know women, most of you.
I am in turns, depressed, weepy, pissed off, irritable, feeling like there's just nothing to look forward to, crabby, snapping, needing a hug, and then not wanting to be touched at all. My body is puffy. I wake in the night drenched with sweat. I shed layers and lay there, disgusting and freezing. WTF, hormones?!!!!
I have just finished eating four squares of a chocolate caramel bar. I want more coffee. Lucinda Williams is making me cry my face off. This morning I barely spoke to Tad, now I desperately miss him. I look in the mirror and imagine myself probably three times larger than I really am. I am not saying such pleasant things to my reflection. Then, Gosh, Alie, Lay off! Then I laugh. I'm talking to myself in the mirror. How silly. Holy cow, I'm a maniac!
And eventually, as the full moon draws near, I will suddenly come back to myself again. I'll feel like a fog has lifted. I'll feel light and happy and remember how wonderful my life is. And then I'll bleed. My body and mind will be my own again.
What a strange, wonderful, difficult thing it is to be female.