Such a Woman

I HATE BEING A WOMAN. This being stated in my worst screechy nails on a chalk board, voice, I'll continue. I dunno, you tell me why.

Maybe it is because someone snuck into my perfectly good body again this month when I wasn't paying any attention, and replaced my nether reasons with a wringer washer who's agitator is stuck on frenzy. That explains my bloat factor. Cramps is the acronym for "cranium retardedly attempting mutative persona syndrome". It's not pretty. But it is a girl thing. Unless you are lucky enough to live on a mountain top in Sri-Lanka, nestled safely away in a cozy monastery, chances are you have to deal with one of us. Poor men. I don't even like being around myself at this time. And I'm so fine, if I wasn't me, I'd fall in love with myself.

I can always tell when my time is approaching when I start going all primal with my instincts. Reverting back to Neanderthal woman, my senses heighten. My olfactory abiltitys sharpen. I am able to distinguish the smell of food, testosterone, danger, and money (basic provider instinct) from afar. Sequencualy the world breaks it's self into four groups:

Those I want to kill.

Those I want to mate.

Those I want to eat.

Those I want to nurture.

These four groups are in a constant kaleidoscope of motion, intergrating and passing through one another like a dance. Conceder yourself an elusively lucky survivor if you make it through only one of these category's if you happen to encounter me during this time. My motives, change as fast as my emotions. If I call you up to ask you to cook dinner for me, be wary. I may just want sustenance, but it has been known to lead to copulation requiring resuscitation. If I ask if you "got milk?", run. Don't look back.

For those I want to kill, my temper fuse becomes so short it is non existent. Yelling "What do you mean by that!", is not a question but a heavily loaded threat. My ears become so sharp I can hear what you are thinking. And it is wrong. I pick fights with groups of teenagers, construction workers, and basically anyone who crosses my path. Anger is; another needs getting extreme reagrangment.

For those I want to mate, you are safer away from male dominated areas. Gyms, sporting good stores, and automotive supply places begin to hold a greater appeal for me. A no-mans man hunting ground. If you product any testosterone, your best chance for survival, is playing dead. Period now stands for; pants existing rip immediately off deviantly.

For those I want to eat, your are more likely than not to be a cow or a cocoa plant by product. Good for you because you know I will finish you off in your entirety no matter what your size. Whomever managed to sneak into my body to accomplish my gut renovation happened to hollow out my legs while at it. My appetite is limitless. I eat till my jaws are tired from chewing but never mange to fill up. Craving equal, can't resist a vast indulgent nutritional gorge.

Those I want to nurture are babies. At this time I want babies. They overnight become irresistible. The smell of baby powder and the sight of a diaper commercial causes me to cry. If I could put down this candy bar, I'll go hang out at the playground and find me one. My cat really does look cute dressed up in a sleeper wrapped in a blanket but his sharp theeth hurt when I nurse. Longing is; lucidity on natal grandeur infants now grievous.

Acient cultures knew what they were doing separating menstruating woman from all others during their time. Doing so probly saved the human race. I bet my chances of coercing my Hubby into building me my own hut out back through threats, copulation and starvation are pretty high right now. I just don't want to be stuck in it with myself.