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**POST DISCLAIMER** I apologize for being bodily function obsessed. Perhaps I've been a mom too long or maybe it was my childhood dream of becoming a nurse or a physician. Either way, this is another post about my monthly. If you don't want to read it, don't. No offense on my end and hopefully none on yours. Also, not quite a disclaimer but a definite side note, I had to post a picture of women walking on the beach as it is so reminiscent of feminine product commercials which (gratefully) never show the product in use but rather show the most ridiculous shots of women playing tennis or...walking on the beach. Clearly designed by men. My commercial would show a woman curled up in the fetal position, crying on her bed surrounded by empty chocolate wrappers.

I must be getting ready to start my period. I'm craving chocolate like crazy -- I made dark chocolate fudgey brownies last night with chocolate chips mixed in and more chocolate chips melted on the top for a frosting. I want salt. Potato chips sound delectable. Nachos. Pickles. Chinese food. Heck, I should just go buy a salt lick and go to town! Apparently I've been quite...uh...er...female dog like. My good friend Liz asked if I was getting ready to start my cycle. I asked her, "Am I always cranky when I start my cycle?" She demurred for a moment and then said, "Yes." Robert, when I informed him of the conversation, got a big grin on his face. So while he wouldn't directly confirm Liz's comment, neither would he deny the content.

What is it about cycles that get women so crazy nuts? And, is it really necessary? I appreciate the hormone flux and, if my body is as resistant to change as I am, it must really be unhappy during this time, but I still don't understand why all of this is so necessary. Isn't having children hard enough without the monthly reminder via bloating, cramping, crying, yelling, craving, binging, irritability, zits, fatigue, limited brain function, insomnia, etc. that we are once again purging ourselves but will be ready to get pregnant in just another short week? Wouldn't the bleeding be notice enough? It's pretty hard to miss.

Clearly, I'm not the only woman obsessed by this. Have you ever noticed how many different terms we have for periods? We are like Eskimos with the word "snow." There is: cycle; period; Aunt Flo; George Michael; painters and decorators; monthly; monthly followed by: bill, blues, evacuations, flow, flux, monster, return, turns and visitor; OTR/on the rag; "menarche, menstruation or menstrual cycle" (spoken in a deep and somber voice); time of the month; menses; "I'm on;" broken; Strawberry Shortcake; crimson tide....need I go on?

What concerns me though, especially when all the symptoms of my cycle are particularly nasty, is the thought of what menopause will be like. My mother and I always assumed that since we were mother and daughter our female functions would be similar. My mother was stunned when I was in labor for about 20 hours with Rhys as compared to her first labor of just 2-4 hours. After some discussion, we determined that I seem to take after my father's mother. Well, not only has FarMar passed away, but I never had a relationship close enough with her to ask, "How well do your reproductive organs work?" More particularly, "How was menopause?" She was a nurse though, so I think, in my vast wisdom gained by being over 30, that she wouldn't have minded. Based on the stories that I've heard, however, it wasn't an easy time for her. Given this and all the problems I have with just a simple monthly flow, I'm worried that menopause may just be the end of me or, at least, of my marriage.

But I suppose that others have made it through all this before. And periods and menopause haven't killed anyone. (I think anyway. Would it be possible for someone, somewhere along the line, to have bled to death? Would committing suicide due to crazed hormone fluxuations be death by period/menopause? -- trying not to dwell.) Anyway, I guess it just "is what it is." Here's to happy womandom (a wee dram of sarcasm included there) and another month under my belt (almost).