Sunday, August 10, 2008
For Those About to Rock....or Bleed, Whichever Comes First
I suppose it's every woman's monthly nightmare, but when you have to plan your vacation around it, the process, although natural and organic, becomes a real pain in the vagina! I'm talking about our menstrual cycles, the bloody, clot ridden mess that happens down under each and every turn of the moon. I know it sounds tres cliche, but it makes women crazy and riddled with anxiety, water retention and hormonal shifts that make us think we are uber hot for steamy sex one minute and a sweaty bundle of nerves the next.
As I said in an earlier blog, I had a very rough ovulation. My mother was in town and we had just returned from a sojourn to Whole Foods, when after unpacking our groceries, I found myself huddled in the chair, gripping my lower abdomen. Mom did the usual mother thing and told me to go lay down, take Tylenol and put something hot on my bloated belly. I did exactly that. I went upstairs, climbed into my comfy bed, slipped a pillow between my bed and slathered on a hot herbal remedy I keep on hand for such auspicious occasions. One click of the tube and I was knee deep in an episode of The Hills, a guilty pleasure at best. I'm fascinated with how Lauren Conrad thinks she's some kind of West Coast Carrie Bradshaw. I mean let's be honest, there is only one Sex In the City and it doesn't shoot in LA. Plus, she's no thirty/forty something, wise enough to know who and when to sleep with someone. Enough on that note...I'll save my Hills rantings for another blog installment !
Back to my womanly ways. Yesterday, I managed to get my ass to the beach, even though I had borderline PMS. My breasts ached (not for sex), my back was in a quasi spasm and my attitude was snarky. I felt like I was suffering from split tongue syndrome. One minute I was being lovey dovey with the hubby and the next, a snotty, spoiled brat barking at him because we couldn't find a prime spot to park in Long Beach during the summer...what a no brainer. After much under the breath quipping, a nice postman bailed us out and gave up his spot for us. He must have seen our little tiff escalating and politely coughed up his great parking digs. I'm sure most men can recognize that slightly wild eye of a woman on the verge of splitting the red sea.
Last night, my back was in full throttle pain and I knew I had to resort to my holistic remedies or I would be sitting at home this week, injured rather than spending it on the beach in my home away from home, Cape May New Jersey. I've been looking forward to this all summer, so I couldn't let my period get in the way of an otherwise eventful summer. I pulled out two different types of Yogi teas, Red Raspberry and Moon Cycles something. The combination of the two seemed to seep right through to my overactive uterus, calming my inner chi and allowing peace and harmony to co-exist deep in my inner sanctum.
I'm happy to report, after a little salt binging today, I feel frighteningly well but still haven't begun to spew my womanly, cast-off egg just yet. I'm hopeful that tonight will be the night but for some reason, I have a feeling it will rear its ugly head, just when I'm about to leave for vacation. I guess I better pack a lot of black clothes.