tits for days

I have friends who can't seem to get pregnant, no matter how hard they try. I have friends who have never even been able to get a regular period. Me? Mine are like clockwork. I can even tell you exactly when I'm ovulating (not that you're asking). But that's one of the problems. No one's asking. Still, my hormones are relentless.

I was on my way out with Lana yesterday, waiting for the elevator.

"My tits are killing me", I complained, hands to my chest.

"Time of the month?"

"Not for another two weeks. I swear, it's like as I get older, my body's voice gets louder and louder. Let me tell you something, I don't need any convincing."

We get onto the elevator.

"You know", I continue, "I never thought it would be this way. It's just so fucking dissapointing. My body is ready, I'm ready. It just wasn't supposed to be like-" I can't finish the sentence.

"I need a fucking kleenex."

Lana pulls one out of her sleeve, like Rocky and Bullwinkle. I let that pass without so much as a roll of my eyes - not even a snide, 'how old are you'-remark.

"Thanks", I sniffle.

I allow myself a moment, and then I move on. I try not to be embarrassed at my outburst, the blatant admission of unhappiness, my display of weakness. It's exhausting to keep pulling myself out of it, but as my mother used to say when I would complain about things like getting older, 'the alternative isn't good'. I guess she's right.