i know it’s coming.  21 days.  and i know it’s here.  she’s on her way.  that thing.  the one that renders me into a blubbering fetal positioned, full-bodied fist. 

that fist i stay crumpled in for a day… a lone straw sipping mai tais the only sign of life in a dark cave.

the first hint of these two days of darkness?

those boobahs.

i have big boobahs.

i’m not bragging.  it’s a fact.  my mom has them, her sister, their mother.  i have them, and so does my sister.

i didn’t even have to dip my hands in holy water.

the boobahs.  every single time, every month.  oh, the ache.  they are a blessing and a curse.

someone needs to invent a premenstrual bra.

oh, the curse.

i invision a bra with faeries and their wings and potions.  and lambswool.  but the kind that breathes.  and does not sweat.  the kind with faeries’ wings all over, and feathers all over.  helium.  some sort of helium contraption.  and ropes and pulleys.  and bubbles.  a bubble machine.

with a sippy hat full of vodka.

but lightweight and soft.  and pink.

like an underwater symphony.

with O2.

a lightweight contraption for the boobahs.

so they are light.  and airy.

oh my god, like the twenty one balloons!!