Pee-Aim-Sssss

Hoho. Dirty little title.

Three little letters which I believe created to justified girls' bipolar emotion so boys won't think us of being crazy. Well, maybe it has some scientific truth in it, if you want to believe it.

Below is three points of my justification of the non-existence of PMS.

1. Girls get emotional during PMS? No. We are emotional little thing, aren't we? But if we get emotional, it is when we tried to get the attention. And you better have it our way. Otherwise, do you want girls to have PMS all year round? No. You'd prefer a few days per month. So it's a win-win situation.

2. The bloating and huge water retention. I felt big during PMS. Is it? Or does the eyes playing tricks? But do play with us that our eyes are not playing tricks. We "do" retain more water and salt during the time of the month so our jeans got a lil bit "tighter". Play this denial card and you won't get girl slap you for saying that she's gained weight.

3. Increasing level of craving for something sweet. Oh please, this is just so transparent, no??! Do I really have to say anything further? Chocolate is our best friend, right after diamonds and gay guys. We need justification to pig out once a month.

I better stop at three. Well, the medical world may have better explanation than mine. (Better and truer). Nonetheless, maybe this is scientifically proven, maybe it is just drama created by us, the repressed side of the gender. Haha, right.

Anyway, I thought this whole drama during PMS thing only happened to me. But then again, I was proven wrong. The universe screamed, "Not that special, honey!" Funny things this PMS. (And by funny I mean 'locoooo')

PS: This post importance (or the lack of it) has raised my own eyebrows. I just need to vent. Sorry readers.

cranky

I'm tired.

Tired.

TIRED.

I'm so Britney's "piece of me". Totally.

I love him - but..

It's going to be a wrehell of months. Chirppy!

Magdalene 1.1 - the wedding

I had spring wedding, with white strapless gown fell lightly to the soil, in a garden, overlooking big lake. It was a dream coming true, for me. Sisters were my bridesmaids with their yellow dresses and brother was looking hip in his brown suit.

I loved my then-husband, Cho deeply. But yes, he was the sun for my rainy mood, the staccato to my wave, he completed me in a way I thought no one could do. My parents love him since his long night waiting for me serving my hospital time, his patience to my stubbornness, and also his money along the way. Cho loves love. He was the romantic one, the sensitive one, the melodious one. In other sentence, he sucked me out of my imagination.

We stayed in the building just across my work while he conduct his empire from the new office in the middle of the Martin Place. In the beginning, when the smell of my wedding gown was still freshly back from the laundry, we enjoyed morning walk to our work, enjoying coffee (me) or cocoa (him).

We would joke as if we are still two grad student going for their lecture in town - or talking about all the white-gray-black suit going around us rarely with smile, with one hand holding paper coffee cup and another hand jacket of some sort. We even have our favorite, the lady who always wear black suit and gray top only on Monday and used her imagination in the coming days - hers are impeccable.

I wish life would remain that way. As easy I was to fall into love, I was falling out of love by a snap of a finger. I realized, I was never in love with Cho, as much as he used to love me. And, never I thought the feeling could be more suffocating. At some point I regretted getting married so young.

At that point, I ran.