I am having the first period (menses) I have had in over eleven, yes count that, eleven years. I do not like it. Yes, it is gross. Yes, it is a bother in that my abdomen is distended and my inside feels as if it wants to be outside. This is not why I do not like it. It is the reminding. The reminding that I have an organ that is the strict definition of being a female and it will never be utilized. My empty candy dish. This refuse it is dispelling is just that, refuse. And now I am feeling a bit like rubbish. The oddest bit is how at this age, I am not as run down. Suppose it is the eleven year hiatus. A uterine hiatus. Do breasts make you a female? Is it the vagina? In the transgendered community those can be acquired along with the requisite hormones which my already lackluster ovaries provide. So, we have left the uterus. Relates to both the words Utopia and Hysteria. Can I be hysterical in my utopia? With or without a worthwhile uterus? The ticker I banished when The Bun left tries so hard to creep its way back in, but I refuse to let it. I am more stubborn than it. I am more stubborn.
My Peanut is lying on the floor, feet spread out behind him as if he were flying across the carpet to get to me. Little bits of Utopia, here and there. Then, when Stan Getz just asked from his song "What are You Doing the Rest of Your Life?" I laughed.