Monday, June 1, 2009

Girl Talk: You Have Been Warned

It has occurred to me that my despondency on Friday was, in part, certainly colored by my nomination for PMS Poster Child 2009. I just didn't know I was being nominated.

But that's nothing new.

My period started last night. Day Freaking 42. A new, non-pregnant lifetime achievement record for me. Up until yesterday, my non-pregnant personal best was Day 37.

At this age, every month is an adventure, shrouded in mystery, I tell you. To steal a line from a video I once saw on Letterman a million years ago, it's "somewhere between Christmas and being buried alive."

But I'm going to have to speak to someone in Scheduling. Because, in the past few years I have grown accustomed to extra, shorter menstrual cycles. I was expecting things to fade away. Not speed up. Which is what they had been doing. Until 42 days ago.

Oh, and inconvenient timing. I'm well-versed in inconvenient timing. Like my honeymoon, for example. That was fun. Got married on a Saturday. By Monday morning . . . well. Sigh.

Holidays. I can always count on a ruined holiday.

Spain, 1994. In the Prado. That was a surprise. I didn't speak Spanish at the time and cried, and The Spouse said, "Stop crying. People will think we're fighting." We went into a drug store, and I was sweating about how to ask for the appropriate product since everything was behind the counter and this was so long ago The Spouse didn't even speak Spanish yet. But there they were: right behind the pharmacist in plain sight so all I had to do was point. Good times.

Years later, on another, less linguistically-challenging trip to Spain, about the time when one might begin to expect these things to become fewer and farther apart, I arrived menstruating and departed, two weeks later, enjoying a new and different, although equally fun, period.

And, were you to take bets on me, I can pretty much guarantee I can hit a weekend for you. Piece. Of. Cake.

My Viennese gynecologist once asked me, "Have you ever wondered why you do that?"

No, Dr. Freud. You tell me.

And since you're an expert in plumbing, while you're at it, can you fix my washer?

5 comments:

TRex said...

Jeez, you wimmin really got the short end! Why I remember when...ohaimrstrex!...hows it hangin...(sounds of meat hitting a fan)!

Susan said...

Oh,you poor thing:(I went through the same thing for years. Then when I was 42 everything stopped!!One of the luckiest things in my whole life.I, like you had mine every 2-3 weeks. Always on weekends and always when we travelled.
K can tell you once when we were riding in the car I was discussing what color I wanted the lining in my coffin!!!And I was serious:)
All this shall pass, my mantra for years:)

valentina said...
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Bethy{aka}lilsis said...

You sound about as regular as I am :-)

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