WAITING FOR THE POT TO BOIL (PART II)

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Saturday, November 06, 2004

Red; It's Not Just for Communists Anymore!

My human sexuality instructor in college, said, as women, we should embrace our men-stroo-ation. (She said it just like that.) During our men-stroo-ation, we should light red candles, drink red wine, wear all red and take baths colored with red food dye. (Wouldn't that dye your skin......nevermind.) She also was admittedly in the middle of a nasty divorce in which, I think, her husband ran off with a much younger woman. Don't know if that was relevant at all, but she seemed to think so and mentioned it during every lesson. I digress, I was thinking of good ol "Red" and I suddenly realized; getting your period is a lot like going to the dentist. Often it hurts, it's always uncomfortable, you hate it, but know it is necessary. You want to put it off as long as possible but ultimately it's inevitable. When it's done you feel cleansed and relieved to have gotten it over with. This got me thinking. This is the first time I ever longed for "it" to come. That means all along I have been hating "it." Poor little Red, so despised and dreaded. So today, I salute you, old nemisis. In a interpretive monologue, I have entitled "I Raise my Glass to you":

Hello, my worst enemy, where have you been? Yes I am talking to you. Yes I know I usually cry and curse and swear and yell at you. But today, I wanted to mend the fences and tell you, thank you. Thank you for showing up in the eleventh hour. I even forgive you for being so late. I'm also pleasantly surprised your friends Horrifying Cramps and Lower Back Pain decided to join us. Welcome. Every pang reminds me I am back on schedule. Every agonizing sharp stabbing pain, lets me know Wednesday is still the big day. I loved spending my lunch money on heating pads, feminine products and extra strength advil, today, even though I was hungry and wanted to eat. I don't even mind that you came in the middle of my work shift. I really am glad you are here. Thank you. Come, stay a while. A short while. In fact you better be gone by Monday or so help me God...In fact, speaking of gone, you look tired. I think you need a vacation. How 'bout you take the next few months off? Specifically the next nine months...The End

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