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| Available May 7! |
For the second time in my life, I'm trying to convince my body it's capable of carrying a child.
(Without flooding myself with artificial hormones, my face grows a 5 o'clock shadow as thick as the dog's. Not pretty or great for snuggling babies, should my body ever decide to produce one.)
I thought it was no big deal, this popping pills thing, but... apparently I'd blocked the memories. About six days into this whole rerun of a fiasco, I became--and I don't know how else to put this--
A woman.
There were... emotions.
When the toddler watched Elmo, I cried.
When the dog peed on the floor, I cried. While simultaneously beating him.
When the microwave sounded, I cried, because there was dark chocolate mug cake with caramel marshmallow filling waiting to soothe my breaking heart.
When the dog peed on the floor, I cried. While simultaneously beating him.
When the microwave sounded, I cried, because there was dark chocolate mug cake with caramel marshmallow filling waiting to soothe my breaking heart.
I'm still not used to it, this whole crying thing. Deep down I refuse to be a slave to the hormones.
I can't completely stop the sudden onslaught of emotion, but I've learned to cover for myself so it doesn't display itself in public. So if you see me fleeing toward the bathroom, it's no longer to check on my five o'clock shadow.
I can't completely stop the sudden onslaught of emotion, but I've learned to cover for myself so it doesn't display itself in public. So if you see me fleeing toward the bathroom, it's no longer to check on my five o'clock shadow.
Oh my gosh, I no longer have a five o'clock shadow!!!
Excuse me while I step into the other room...
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Bekah Hamrick Martin is a proud member of the Scribble Chicks blog & the author of The Bare Naked Truth: Dating, Waiting & God's Purity Plan.
So what's your story about Living with Estrogen? Comment!
So what's your story about Living with Estrogen? Comment!
This is hilarious. I love your writing style. :)
ReplyDeleteI can relate to the crying thing when "that time of the month" comes. I never cry. Ever... until the night before. That's when the waterworks start and refuse to stop. Which is fine when your at home. However...
We are sitting in the frozen yogurt shop thirty minutes before the weekly campus ministry meeting and my friend is telling me about how she and the guy she liked are FINALLY talking about dating. He did the most romantic thing ever last night.
I am the only single girl at our table... and my coffee (yes... I get coffee at the yogurt shop) is too sweet (never thought I'd say that). I waited all day for this coffee. This is tragic.
We get up to leave and Emily says, "I'm just so happy!" I'm suddenly ridiculously happy for her.
I feel the burn. My eyes water. My throat tightens. I know it's coming. I'm about to... cry.
I rush out of the shop. I have to make it to the car before this happens. Yep. Driving while emotionally is a great idea. My friends run after me. The car won't unlock. They catch me.
"Are you crying?"
"No. I don't..." A tear falls onto the pavement with an ungodly loud splat. "cry..." And then it happens. I'm sobbing in the parking lot. I'm not sad. I'm not happy. I'm angry, now. Because I'm crying. I hate crying.
I hate emotions. I hate estrogen.
Haha, I love your story! We will win over these stupid feelings!!
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