Just a quickie blog about being a woman
Here’s a quickie blog about not much at all. About being a woman actually. Maybe you know where I am coming from.
You know you’re… ovulating when all the men in this one horse town suddenly don’t look half bad at all. Ovulation tinted specs I believe they call them.
You know you’re… hungover when everybody in this one horse town looks ugly. There may be accompanying headache, nausea, self-loathing and general inability to cope, but ugly is the sure sign.
You know you’re… hungry when your two year old is driving you nuts and nothing, nothing is anywhere near to being right. You can just feel the final straw coming right around the corner and you have snapped at your man. He now thinks you are premenstrual when, in fact, all that has happened is that you have forgotten to have breakfast. What? It happens…
You know you’re… premenstrual when every body is not just ugly (that’s a hangover) but also stupid, thoughtless and asking for it. You wish you had a gun.
You know you’re… getting old when you can no longer understand the conversation or the hairstyles in the queue for the ladies loo in a pub in Bermondsey FFS.
You know you’re… tired when you think that you might just be able to catch a few more winks of sleep as you sit on the loo first thing in the morning. This is a pipe dream. Be careful not to fall in or off.
You know you’re… drunk when you don’t feel tired or old or hungover only to feel all of these things, in quick succession, and then all at once, not long after. Hunger and hangover to follow.
You know you’re… right when you are none of the above (or below) and your argument still stacks up.
You know you’re… wrong when… sorry, I have not idea what this even means. Feel free to jump in.
You know you’re… a mother when tiredness and getting old are, well, they are what you are. Hunger must be dealt with, but only when everyone else has been fed. Drunkenness is aspirational. Don’t let’s get started about your menstrual cycle, or your boobs or your… whatever. Love is abounding.
You know you’re… in love when your menstrual cycle is irrelevant, you feel neither hunger nor your age, drunkenness comes in package and tiredness is just one of many, many excuses to go to bed. Erm, beware ovulation.
You know you’re… dead when your mum and your sister stop calling and all the best crockery and the iPad have mysteriously disappeared. There may also be some apparent physical decay which should not be confused with getting old.
That is all from me. I would love to hear your additions to this list. How do you know when you are in Heaven? Or the other place?
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Image credit: George Gross
