the joys(?) of being woman...
WHO do I think I’m kidding? Backdating an entry so I don’t have any blanks on my calendar!! But, in a month even I will have forgotten what happened when. Obviously, I changed my mind and let the 6th of May keep what’s rightfully its. I stayed in bed late this morning, groaning in a state of agony (Arkansas)…just kidding. Point is I’m going through stuff only a woman would understand, although the number of those that do diminishes each year - thanks to the miracles of modern science and the age-old practice of getting pregnant. All I can do is wait for the sweet relief of…tomorrow. YES!!
AFTER 2 weeks of PMS and then this, I usually join the much-maligned group that is “the man-hating dyke club”. Not the “men-hating club”…that’s too general: hating just because they are. I have particular men I can usually target all my rage at, and they give me ample reason to.
Usually, I can barely work up the strength to acknowledge any difference in the sexes – aside from which one I’m attracted to, of course. I mean I’ve seen stupid and contradictory stuff from both sides. I have myself been the queen of sweet: when I get my way. Then I become the queen of mean when I don’t - and of course during those 5 days of the month when le bitche arises, plus the 14 days of PMS before that, and don’t forget the ovulating that comes after all this. You can see there’s a pretty narrow window when the real, sweet, patient me can shine through.
What was I saying…oh yes: Hating the men. Hate is a strong word…so is “Cramps for which no known painkiller works, and who knows with the pill and cancer, and especially since I smoke, and yes I know I shouldn’t, duh, but let’s face it, I have not mentally decided to quit yet, so there’s no point bringing that up, and even the damn patch is for non-smokers, like it’s not enough that they’ve overrun the bars in New York, crawling out of their homes and other hiding places to take over our hangouts with their clean, smoke-free air, I mean what’s a smoker to do at the bar by herself, will bars have to use smoke machines to simulate the “smoky bar” atmosphere? and those heating patch things don’t even begin to scratch the surface.” Now that’s a strong word. “Cramps”, I mean.
Ok, I withdraw the hate. I can tolerate them just as much as the next woman…but right now, I really resent them. This is where I part ways with those who say God is a woman…would she inflict this much pain on her own kind? Or maybe it’s that she knew men were too wimpy to handle this and childbirth? Ok, maybe I could buy that.
They say writing helps you relieve some of the stress you feel. What utter bull-f$$king s^%t!! I still feel like I would love to be in a war right now, cos I get to hold an Uzi, or whatever, and blow shit up!! Oh shit! I said “shit”…and who gives a...? I can never tell what symbols to use in place of cuss words. Other people do it so well…but me? You know what I’m saying, but it looks weird…so maybe it sounds weird? This is called the ramble of a thousand drugs…
I’m going to drag myself to the shower now. I’ll try and walk among the annoying pain-free people out there.
But you better watch out world: I have a mouth, and I’m not afraid to use it.
