Parts of this article have been edited for the purpose of the editorial from my novel by yours truly. I figured that since red lips are all the rage right now, what better way than to take a bit of my story and put it into it.
Take a look, and let me know what you think.
Click on the photo above or click here to read more.
More coming soon!
Now, off to cook my Sunday Roast.
I have to give credit to my Dad for finding this piece of useful information. (He asked me not to share it with Jock – I can see why after reading it. Jock, don’t read this entry below.)
Side Note: I apologize in advance for the content of this piece as it may offend certain people (ah hem, some men or women who have no interest in the woman’s reproductive cycles.) However, I find this extremely relevant to my situation, and how to deal with life in general – which is, in fact, what this blog is mostly about. Thank you for the feedback though!
A variety of evolutionary rationales for the syndrome have been offered, including that it is an epiphenomenon due to the selective advantage accruing to other phases of the hormonal cycle,[11] that it leads to “intensification of male ardour during the next onset of fertility”,[12] and that it prompts females to reject infertile males (who cause PMS due to not impregnating the female). “… an infertile male/potentially fertile female partnership would tend to break down, thus allowing a new pair-bond to be formed. The greater the degree of premenstrual hostility of the female, the sooner a fertile mating could ensue.”[13] Any theory would have to account for the persistence of PMS over substantial evolutionary time, as it appears to afflict baboons as well.[14] ~Wikipedia
I have some problems with the excerpt (mostly that I don’t want a baby right now!), but it makes sense on an evolutionary scale. Hey, at least it’s something. The wording is a bit hefty, but the gist of it can be understood.
I’m really getting into this PMS research – hey, knowledge is power. So, perhaps the more I know about it, the more I’ll be able to control it.
The only problem is that the more research I do, the more I realize that actually, no one has a fecking clue what causes it! Heck, even women who have their uterus removed still get it. The one thing they do know is that it comes along with menstruating. Brilliant!
If you’d like to read some more, here’s a paper written in 1992, and printed in the Social Science and Medicine. Click here for the full article.
Abstract-In 1931 a physician coined the term Premenstrual Tension, thereby commencing an extensive biomedical inquiry into the relationship between women’s menstrual cycle and the occurrence of physical, emotional and behavioral changes. However, despite 58 years of scientific research, fundamental questions remain unanswered. For example, there is still no consensus on the definition of PMS. This, in turn, has led to disagreement among researchers about which medical specialty is best suited for diagnosing and treating PMS. Is PMS a disease whose pathology is best understood by physicians in reproductive medicine or in psychiatry?
This paper argues that the inconclusiveness surrounding PMS is symptomatic of the persistence of cultural beliefs in the production (and reproduction) of medical knowledge. The roots of these cultural beliefs and their ‘naturalness’ in the context of Western ideas about reason, rationality and women are explored in the first section. The second section discusses the ubiquity of these same cultural beliefs in contemporary scientific research of PMS and in the controversy surrounding the proposed psychiatric diagnostic category of Late Luteal Phase Dysphoric Disorder (LLPDD). Finally, a new, anthropologically and sociologically informed approach to understanding the phenomenon of PMS is suggested.
Another person he suggested reading is Camille Paglia. Might just order her book.
Thanks Dad, for teaching me more about PMS!
I felt overloaded with the beauty of it all.
There were times when I could almost feel a roll of the eyes coming from myself when approaching another beautiful scenery up ahead – from another castle steeped in history, another amazing group of rolling hills or another incredible coastline. There were times when I just didn’t know if I could stomach more beauty and more nature.
But, “Jesus,” I thought, “what the heck is wrong with you? This is AMAZING, don’t you get it?” I did get it. I knew logically it was all amazing. But I wasn’t FEELING it.
I mean, I was seeing the mountains, the cathedrals, the millions of books in Trinity College and I was reading the plaques associated with the meanings of it all. But I wasn’t really there. I was. But not truly. Not all the time. The “Oooohs” and “Ahhhs” coming from my mouth sometimes felt like that’s what I should be saying at these moments of intense breathtaking scenes, and they came out on target and with the rest of the group – but something was missing.
And, I couldn’t figure out what it was. At first, I put it down to the fact that I had lived in France and I’d been living in England for some time now. The intensity I felt the first time I entered Europe could never be replicated because I no longer had those fresh eyes to take everything in. I admitted defeat and realized perhaps this was the sign of getting older and seeing more and knowing more. I was an adult, and with it came lack of excitement?
But, I yearned to get authentically excited again about IT. Life. The Planet. History. Nature. Seeing things. TRULY seeing things. Ireland. I knew it was magical. I could sense it. But I wasn’t feeling it.
Then, I told myself that traveling was more about being with the person you’re traveling with and experiencing life with them. The sights and sites were secondary. That didn’t quite click with me either. Because, if I couldn’t experience it for myself, then I wasn’t truly experiencing it WITH them…right?
So, what was it? Why was there this fog that left me feeling a bit detached, a bit lackluster, and frankly, slightly annoyed at times?
Everyday this feeling slowly started to go away. Ireland began ebbing away at the cobwebs in my spirit. It made tiny cracks in my “adult” brain until holes started forming, peeking into my child soul. I didn’t notice it at first…until, I made a decision.
I turned off my phone, left my laptop in the car, had a good night’s sleep with no alcohol, and …. there Ireland was. Stretched before me like a vast dreamlike land of delight. Only it wasn’t a dream. The colors were vivid and everything was shiny and new again.
I was awestruck by the lakes, rainbows and ruggedness, not aggravated by them. I felt more free and open and alive than perhaps…ever. It was better than the first time I arrived in Europe. Because this time, I had to earn it. Not better. Just different.
The weird thing is. I didn’t even notice that I was feeling in any way lackluster before this. Bristol has finally started feeling like home, I am more in love than ever, and my book is coming along better than I had hoped. I’ve made some great friends, and sure I miss my family and the US, but I also know I’ll be seeing them soon. I’m happy.
Maybe what I realized is that everyday happiness just has a different feel than holiday happiness. You have to adjust to each. One is perhaps more exaggerated than the other. It also reminds me to turn off my laptop, and take walks more often. Running perhaps has its limitations?
With that said, technology is the devil. At least for me. I can too easily become addicted and obsessed with postings, what’s going on in twitterland, who wore what on X-Factor (the UK’s American Idol for the folks back home), who emailed me – that what goes on in cyber space becomes more important than what I’m actually doing in real life. It’s a sad disease.
So sad that in order for me to get any writing of my novel done, I must turn off the WiFi, and if Jock is home and needs it on – I have no chance of writing or editing my book because… well, I need to know who is number 1 on the charts right now, or somebody said something to me two weeks ago that I had been meaning to google because I was pretty sure they were wrong about that…
So sad that I had to delete myself from facebook six months ago.
So sad that it took me over a week to wake up from this Cyberspace haze while I was in possibly the most gorgeous country I have ever seen. And, I do think that was a big part of it.
Luckily, I have come back a new woman! But wait, first I have to find out the origin of the Claddagh ring and figure out which way to wear it on my finger to say that my heart is taken…
All that said, I definitely had one of the best times of my life by the end. (see next entry for details!)
I’m thinking about PMS today (or PMT – premenstrual tension, as they call it here). Not only because I have a bad case of it today, but also just in general. Other than being completely annoying that once a month I have to put my boyfriend and myself through incredibly painstaking bouts of bad moods…I’m wondering if there is any sort of use for it. Like, is there a practical reason that once a month I go into fits of extreme negative thinking, aggressiveness and anger?
I know that it happens to most women, but why? We all know it happens, we all know we must deal with it, but is there a biological and possibly positive reasoning for it?
The fact that our minds get fed up with everything around us wanting us to strangle anyone who comes close to our personal space – does this somehow allow us to see the positivity in other days? Was there a extremely primeval aspect to this Pre-Menstrual psychosis? Did it help us when we were cave women sitting around by the fires to somehow get things moving?
I guess my question is – what is the fucking point??
Because there must be a point to it all, right? Our bodies are temples, blah blah blah, and sensitive and complex. Apparently God must have had some kind of plan when he decided to give us this nasty monthly syndrome. He couldn’t have just wanted to mess with us, could he have?
I’m sure I could do more research, or, any research at all, on this topic, but I’d rather sit on my bed, sulk and eat chocolate…
I really would like the answer though. I feel it might help me to understand this pointless misanthropic stupidity, or this pain in my sass, or even this probing maniacal sorcerer.
What you got?
I’ve been writing a lot (not to mention still tweaking the ending to my novel), and as I write this my eyes are still blurry from sleep.
If you’re interested in reading some of my latest guest posts and interviews, see below:
Editor’s Note: The following is a guest post from Meagan Lopez from the fabulous blog The Lady Who Lunches. Meagan has kindly done a write up of the must see’s in Southwest England, where she recently moved to with her British boyfriend. Click here to read the full article.
I’ll have an fashion article up on ANDMAGAZINE.com by the end of the week as well, and should have some stuff up on one of Demand Studios Partners website’s (as that’s where I started a new freelancing job).
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