I Don't Get It

Today the goddess speaks about herself:

I don't get it; I really don't. This whole men-o-pause thing. I'm not pausing from men. What if I was never into men? Where does this term come from and why must I acknowledge it? It is time for this goddess to do a little research in this area.

Four months ago I skipped a period. I have never skipped and NOT been pregnant. I have never not known when I was pregnant about thirty seconds after I conceived so..... OK, maybe I played a little denial game with myself for a couple of weeks that first pregnancy, but I KNEW. And, I knew four months ago that I was not pregnant. I played a little game with myself then too. Two months ago I skipped again. The game I played then was the 'maybe this is it, and I'm done with this business forever' game. I really don't know what women are complaining about here. It's not so bad.

Not so bad to have a full beard that I spend hours plucking, shaving, covering and fussing over. Not so bad to retain every ounce of fluid that I take into my body. I really don't know where the liquid for my urine comes from. How can I be this bloated and still pee? I don't get it. I don't. But, it's not so bad. I'm not all hot and sweaty or cranky or whatever it is in all of those magazine articles that I skip past with a nonchalant flick of the wrist because I am too young for that yet.

So, anyhoo... back to the why this name for this condition. Upon referring to my handy dandy etymology handbook I am now clear about the term. It's from the Greek. That is why it is all Greek to me. Ha ha. Get it? It's all Greek to me cause I don't get it? ha ha? Not with me on this one I guess. I've been on the floor for a good five minutes guffawing, but oh well... (This lack of ability to be funny must be the meno thingamajig. My memory's not so good in my condition). Menos=month, pause=pause. Thus, the pause of the monthly cycle. That would explain the off again, on again nature of my monthly 'friend' (I use the term lightly--that's kind of a menses joke there too. Sheesh! Keep up people).

Due to my game playing, something I have done my whole life with my period by never acknowledging that it was upon me each and every month since the middle of 5th grade before I even had a chance to turn 11, my god, so unfair, I was completely in the dark as to why I was carping at my beloved all day, and feeling a bit achy. Two symptoms, I might add, that I also refuse to acknowledge pre-in need of feminine product. It is only after I have moped about, lopping off heads left and right, and Aunt Flo has truly stepped through the door, that I am all... "G.D. F-ing hell, it was the PMS!". It really is unfair that it was all my fault and NOT the sole fault all of the headless people who got in my righteous way. I heartily despise the moment that realization hits and I know that I am going to have to make some kind of reparation. I really, really hate that. At any other time I don't care that much about being right. I don't get it!

Today was another such day. I've been going merrily about my head lopping day with a slight headache. I thought it was from drinking too much coffee, or not getting much accomplished on my 4 days before Christmas and I am nowhere near ready list. But, no. One trip to the Ladies... What a pisser. This shouldn't be called a pause. It should be called an interrupter. The pause is good. The interrupter is what is making me crazy. I would rather be hairy and bloated than cranky and achy. Why don't we call this thing Menointerruptus instead? Also, why can't one of the symptoms be bliss? I don't get it. Why do all of the symptoms have to be so mean spirited?

May peace and blissful ignorance be yours from, The Goddess of Everything.