“We wants it, we needs it. My precious! They stole it from us, nasty hobbitses… it’s mine!!!!” I shouted as I chased my brother, who had run away with my chocolate. Was he thick? Never get between a girl and her precious, especially when she is PMSing. Learnt his lesson he did, that fat hobbit! Smacked him square in the jaw, my precious! I gobbled it as if I had not eaten in days, licking my fingers clean. But then, unfortunately, I happened upon a mirror. Lo behold, there should a giant gangly beast with huge round eyes, arms hanging down the side, shoulders drooping. Was this me? Is this what had happened? Had my precious (piece of chocolate) made me this bloated sack of a woman? Gollum! Gollum!
Cue the tears.
Menstruation always makes me want chocolate with a craving as severe as that of Smeagol, and sure when I put that precious in my mouth, I turn into a hideous beast, Gollum I start seeing in my mirror. There is a time when I am rational and sweet. I can convince myself that I have merely put on a bit of holiday weight. I can take comfort in the fact that I must accept myself as I am. I am fooled by feeble attempts at placation and flattery. But not when the monster of menses is messing with me. That is when every ugly beast, that has taken sanctuary in my heart for days, raises its head. Despair at how fat I am. Despair at how lonely I feel despite being in crowds.
The spirit of precious, evil incarnate, beckons me. Chocolate promises to make all that despair vanish. It stalks and makes me easy prey. Once under its sway, precious begins to consume me.
Gollum! Gollum! ANGER, damn you, damn the world, damn them all. They hates us, they do. We wants them dead. We always give in to the precious when the egg drops.
Riding the red dragon is no easy business. In those days, as I lie alone in my blood, sweat and tears, I cannot help but be angry at the whole world.
I am banished to bed. As I lie in the dank and dreary caverns of my sheets, hewn with tissues and dotted by crumbs of chocolate, I think. I think of all the wrong they did. And sure enough like they say, an idle mind is Saruman's workshop. I am left consorting with the dark side, both of us scheming against them. Today, I had a realization as I watched LOTR. I recognised that my alter-ego has a name of its own.
Menstruation is a woe I must endure. And chocolate is just to ease the pain.
Being a female is an eventful journey. This rite of passage, its pace steadily set by the ominous ticking of the biological clock, can be eulogised thus,
One day to punish them all
One day to enjoy them (any amount of chocolate is justified on this day),
One day to drown them all (in tears),
One (the last) day to (secretly plot and) destroy them.
Cue evil laugh.
Muahahahahahahhahahahh…
Cue the tears.
Menstruation always makes me want chocolate with a craving as severe as that of Smeagol, and sure when I put that precious in my mouth, I turn into a hideous beast, Gollum I start seeing in my mirror. There is a time when I am rational and sweet. I can convince myself that I have merely put on a bit of holiday weight. I can take comfort in the fact that I must accept myself as I am. I am fooled by feeble attempts at placation and flattery. But not when the monster of menses is messing with me. That is when every ugly beast, that has taken sanctuary in my heart for days, raises its head. Despair at how fat I am. Despair at how lonely I feel despite being in crowds.
The spirit of precious, evil incarnate, beckons me. Chocolate promises to make all that despair vanish. It stalks and makes me easy prey. Once under its sway, precious begins to consume me.
Gollum! Gollum! ANGER, damn you, damn the world, damn them all. They hates us, they do. We wants them dead. We always give in to the precious when the egg drops.
Riding the red dragon is no easy business. In those days, as I lie alone in my blood, sweat and tears, I cannot help but be angry at the whole world.
I am banished to bed. As I lie in the dank and dreary caverns of my sheets, hewn with tissues and dotted by crumbs of chocolate, I think. I think of all the wrong they did. And sure enough like they say, an idle mind is Saruman's workshop. I am left consorting with the dark side, both of us scheming against them. Today, I had a realization as I watched LOTR. I recognised that my alter-ego has a name of its own.
Menstruation is a woe I must endure. And chocolate is just to ease the pain.
Being a female is an eventful journey. This rite of passage, its pace steadily set by the ominous ticking of the biological clock, can be eulogised thus,
One day to punish them all
One day to enjoy them (any amount of chocolate is justified on this day),
One day to drown them all (in tears),
One (the last) day to (secretly plot and) destroy them.
Cue evil laugh.
Muahahahahahahhahahahh…
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| On a side note : My brother is a chef now, and he made this. |