On Hormones

Ooooh lordy! I am raging today!

It has not been pretty.

Did it sound pretty when I slammed the office door shut? Dunno. Don’t care.

How did it feel? Great.

Did I look pretty glaring at the parking lot smoker as I walked through his cloud o’cancer?

Doubtful. Don’t give a rat’s.

These unpredictable, uncontrollable emotions—the absolutely raw feelings of rage, complete impatience, and zero tolerance—they’re not normal for me.

My hormones, controlled by the miracle of chemistry, are at a very steady, predictable level. Every day, we take the magic pill, we keep our estrogen and progesterone right where we likes ’em, and everybody’s happy. It works for me, my doctor says I can go on like this until menopause, and if anyone ever tries to take them away, they are gambling with their lives. They shall rue the DAY they tried to take my little peachy pills away! They can’t HAVE them! I will fight to the DEATH for them, do you HEAR ME???

Ahem. Like I said, today we’re experiencing some wee surprise episodes of rage, where I can be flitting along like my normal saintly bitchy self, sprinkling delight dirt on all who walk in my sunshine shadow and then BAM, suddenly I’m tottering on the very delicate edge of a quite-high cliff, over which I can topple with just a puff of air directed at my back. With very ugly results at the bottom.

I’ve fallen off that bluff at least five times—so far—today. But, like Chumbawamba, I got up again (much to the chagrin of everyone in my path).

This, too, shall pass.

They call it PMS because Mad Cow Disease was already taken. ~Author Unknown