Hormones. You can’t live with too many, and you can’t live without enough. Yes, my friend, without the proper hormone balance you will curl up like the feet of the Wicked Witch of the West when Dorothy removed the Ruby Slippers. Hormones are fascinating little buggers, and incredibly useful to the premenstrual writer. Sit back and enjoy the scene below as written by a woman in the grips of estrogen dominance.
One evening I sat at the kitchen table and watched my husband walk around the pool surveying his kingdom. Suddenly, I detested him and was determined to arrest his ability to suck in oxygen that should have rightly been mine. I imagined myself as a White Ninja, creeping stealthily up behind him, unsheathing the gleaming weapon I had sharpened only that morning. He turned, eyes widening as the swoosh of my sword smoothly sliced across his neck, decapitating him. It was a clean and perfect cut. His head bounced twice landing in the pool, the crimson clouds spreading smoothly like crimson cumulus clouds. Continue reading “My Hormones Made Me Do It”
