Hu Hu Hu

I discovered that right before my monthly period, I cry. Uncontrollably. Ridiculously.
The reasons are not even worth mentioning, really.
But that's not to say they're irrelevant. They're only small things, true, but when they happen right before my period, they are the last straw.

Like that time I couldn't get a cab in Media City. On a normal day in my menstrual calendar, I would simply sigh and try to find another way to reach my destination. But I was ovulating. When I hailed the last cab driver who rejected me, I raised hell. I think I told him to --- a tree, then broke down at the bus stop. Or that time I couldn't say no to a friend's party. I put on my pre-menstrual face the whole evening, complaining about the food and the music and the weather. Or the weekend nobody was free. I thought the world has deserted me, so I out on ACAMP's Song for the Leftovers while sobbing in the mirror.

But I also realized today, after shedding my September tears, that crying every month does wonders for me. I feel so much better! Calm, inspired, strong. The negative energy falls off together with the tears, and I am stripped of issues once again, or at least have managed to get rid of their dead skin, often provokingly ugly, sitting on the surface, waiting to be dispelled. Until we meet again the following month.

Next month I wonder what I'll cry about. How about the stench in International City? Or the lack of space in the office? Or my weight (crowd favorite -- and by crowd I mean hormones)?