In which it’s way better this way, but still not ideal.

I think my ability to perceive the glass as half full is actually a character flaw.

I think this because I can slog through a fairly unacceptable life and yet still be convinced that I’m happy, even when I’m patently not. I learned this about myself when I was married: I was terribly unhappy for years without realizing it. Even developed a panic disorder, that’s how deep in denial I was about not getting my needs met…

But that’s a whole other post. I’m probably not, in point of actual fact, living a life that is unacceptable: it’s probably just PMS.

I love not bleeding for 29 days out of every 30. It’s awesome. It’s fantastic. I’m frantic with joy that I no longer have to fear my life is leaking out of my uterus. (Rollerball ablation has been very, very good to me.) But. I still get evil, wicked PMS and I hate it. Bloating is evil! No one should have her ankle bones disappear every month! Feeling despondent, tired, and quasi-depressed for a third of every month is just plain sucky.

I remember when I was young and bullet-proof I thought women who complained of PMS were just complaining for attention. Now I realize the truth: hormones are hell.

Maybe I’ll luck out and be born male next time. While males may have shorter life spans, at least their reproductive processes are eleventy-hundred times less complicated!