When I get to Heaven I want to have a little sit down with Eve. Because she just HAD to taste a piece of forbidden fruit, listen to a sultry voice and believe it necessary to have the knowledge of good and evil, women for ever after have been gifted with special quirks. As young girls we start with the monthly cycles; hormones causing emotions we have no ken of; not to mention other small things such as did we really need hair under our arms? What possible use is this?
The next phase is the process of birth. As stated in the Bible, due to Eve’s original sin I was doomed to have a human spew out of my vajayjay in a writhing, gut wrenching motion that, at the very least left me panting and squealing and at the most ripped me asunder. Thanks for that, first lady of the earth. I imagine God’s original plan for population through his lovely Eve was to be so glorious and gentle it wouldn’t cause a ripple in the fabric of her life.
But no. Instead I had nine months of burgeoning flesh, morning sickness, hemorrhoids, and stretch marks. Following that I went into actual labor with pain; bigger pains; screaming, huffing and puffing pains. And then, yes then, I got to have a seven pound being shoot out of the most tender part of me. Lovely, just lovely. There was stuff going on down there you can not unsee. Frightening views that are beautiful and horrific at the same time. The only reason mankind has thrived is the wonderful prize you get at the end of this; a tiny human to fall in love with.
After child-bearing years I raced into another era of womanhood. My skin started to ever so slowly wrinkle and sag and moisturizer became my best friend. I was so busy with husband, kid, job, whatever, I sometimes lost site of my needs and ignored my body. Do you know heart disease is the biggest killer of women? That’s because we don’t pay attention to ourselves.
And there’s another thing – by my fifties I was starting to misplace things and mutter to myself. I have formed a hypothesis that follows: I believe our thoughts and memories are stored in types of file folders all stacked up in our minds. When we are young there is not as much information in them so accessing a bit of memory is easy. You don’t have all that much to mentally thumb through. As you age, more and more information gets stored and more file folders are necessary to categorize and hold the material. Thus, at a certain mature age it takes a while to find the right folder, rifle through the entries, mentally read the data and finally be able to spew out an answer. It’s exhausting.
And then there’s the mother of all stages – menopause. To be honest, this stage hasn’t been too awful for me. No night sweats, anxiety, loss of hair, loss of feeling friendly to the husband. Instead my eye brows have become thinner, weight loss is harder, I can’t see a thing without my help and the magic is dimming a litt.e
Eve, you did us wrong, but I still wouldn’t want to be anything other than the magical mess of a woman I am.
magicalmess 