2003-10-15

Being a chick is shithouse sometimes, in fact generally about once a month. I try and get all girly yum-ya about how its a marker of my womanhood etc etc but quite frankly it is very difficult to be Xena (warrior princess) when your insides are struggling desperatly to get out. I end up more like She-ra (princess of power)... a bit pissweak and whingy.

I don't usually talk about the women's plumbing side of things mainly because its just a fact of life and you end up living with it, but this month is truly something special for me as it marks the very first time that I have been put out of commission by my bleedy bits. I could hardly stand, let alone think about important marketing type things, and so I rang up the work kiddies and told them it was a big no-go for me to be behind a desk being pleasant to people. They (being mostly chicks themselves) were remarkably understanding and told me to lie down, consume inordinate amounts of chocolate and Naprogesic and finish myself off with a bottle of red wine. Ahhh yes, nature's anesthetic!

But it is truly the first time I have been rendered incapable of anything because of my bits. I've never even used it as an excuse to get out of sports at high school, and when it comes to rumpy pumpy there are many other options available to one for the pleasuring (of either party!). So it disturbs me somewhat as I approach the big 3-oh to discover that my essence of chickbits is trying to cause a rumble in the jungle by making life difficult for me once a month. I hope it is a one-off, mainly because I do not see myself as a simpering Jane Eyre-esque big girl's blouse who is knocked off her horse by the first natural occurence that comes along.

Pah! A pox on chickness sometimes. I need a detachable uterus.

bitch - moan