I have seen the other side and it is NOT pretty

There was one very enlightening thing that happened while I rode out the hormonal tsunami that was my life last week.

I became a man for 3 days.

Okay, no. I did not grow a penis. And yes. I still had boobies.

But other than that, I became a man.

I did man like things and I had no control over the situation.

Bathing now seemed optional.

I developed an uncontrollable itch on my ass. My hand spent more time down the back of my pants during those 3 days then it has in the entire other 43 years and 362 days of my life.

And I didn’t care where I was or who was around while I scratched.

It’s going to be a very long time before I will be welcome at the deli counter.

My yoga instructor didn’t buy that there was a variation of Proud Warrior called Proud Warrior 2.5 with a hand down your pants.

I told her she wasn’t as evolved as she claimed.

During those 3 days a small mountain grew on the floor beside my bed.

It was as if there was a magnetic field that would not allow socks or underwear to make their way to the clothes hamper just a couple feet away.

Dishes would not, could not be put into the empty dishwasher. They were piled willy nilly-- no scraping or rinsing.

Glasses grew on every piece of furniture in the house. All only half empty.

The most disturbing thing though, was how I was still my real self, trapped inside my head.

I was screaming in there at what was happening. More to the point, what was not happening.

So when for those three days I could not manage to put the mascara back in it’s little elastic sleeve in my make-up case----- somewhere inside it was driving my real self quite mad indeed.

It was going against the grain.

I am a total creature of organization and habit.

For instance, let’s talk about bathrooms.

I have realized over the last couple years that if I use the bathroom in a public place more than once, I will use whatever stall I used the first time.

Even if the next time is months down the road.

Any public bathroom.

In my town, state, and country or across the Atlantic--------I automatically use the stall I used the first time.

If it’s occupied, I will wait.

It’s okay----laugh. I find it a bit bizarre as well.

So on that morning when I actually slipped the tube of mascara back into it’s rightful spot in the case, I knew I was back.

I celebrated by doing the laundry and cleaning the house.

Without scratching my ass once.