A strange stretch of days
Occurs every few weeks or so
When my body
Doesn’t feel like it belongs to me
It has a wilful mind of its own.
My stomach has a hissy fit,
And demands more chocolate.
When I don’t oblige,
She distends anyway,
Growing twice her usual size,
and sending lightning bolts of pain up my back.
‘Stop it,’ I hiss furiously,
‘We have company.’
She growls in return, then moans
As she crimps herself like an acrobat.
I grimace through the pain.
My joints begin to add to her clamour
And my muscles bow beneath that pressure.
Am I coming down with the flu?
‘Go to bed,’ my body yowls,
Writhing, cramping, bending, aching.
I look in the mirror
And my heart sinks.
‘oh,’ I think, ‘I am one
Piece of work’
I blubber like a puffed up seal.
But I’ve been working out for three weeks…
It hits me.
I see what’s going on here.
And I recognise this for what it is,
My body just doing her life-y thing.
I have my herbal tea
I cry the hormones into a puddle around my feet
And get on with it,
Female out there.
Soon my body will go back to its rightful state.
My stomach will pull itself together
Smile sheepishly at me
My mind will reset itself,
My muscles will yearn for exercise.
My energy will soar through the roof
And all the angst of the days prior,
Will feel illogical, and unfounded.
The body is a wonderful piece of work.