Menstruation... what the??

All I can say is that humans appear to be poorly evolved. I find it ridiculous that every month a female human, of a certain age range, must bleed for several days and often experience debilitating cramping abdominal pain. It is highly impractical. It is messy. It is expensive. And why do the damn 'feminine hygiene products' have to cost so much?

These products alone have been the subject of political controversy. The incorporation of a GST in the pricing structure was hotly debated but, not suprisingly, was not able to be quashed. One wonders whether this would have been the case if men had menstruation? In addition, perhaps they would be better. This may be unfair. But I still wonder.

So back in the cave man days I understand that women used to let their blood run down their legs. I am not sure how we know this (or for that matter, how I know this. I must have read it somewhere. Hmmm. How does anyone know this? How did they draw THAT on a wall?) And then somewhere along the line it became shameful and women were subjected to a whole heap of restrictions when they were bleeding. Some of these restrictions remain in some cultures as you may well be aware. Is this fair, in 2010? It is odd really, women are encouraged to wear almost no clothing and desire impossible bodies and dance in innapropriate ways to get sex or a man or something. I don't mind that either, but there is a time and a place for these activities, and we shouldn't be letting our young people be affected. But they are - anorexia, bullimia, teenage pregnancy, etc. Yet heaven forbid we should menstruate.

So why is it shameful? It is certainly a 'natural process' and one which signifies that a women can breed, which is surely important to the continuation of the species. I see why we don't want blood running down our leg these days, it would spatter up from my bicycle chain and become quite messy. And the problems with chairs can only be imagined. So yes let's wear a 'product.' But let's make a product that works better. There is nothing like the horror of realising that your 'product' is full to capacity and is about to overflow. And then when it does overflow and escapes onto your clothing really sucks the big one.

Especially when you are wearing pale or not red coloured clothes.

I have period pants which are tight fitting and dark coloured. I wonder if other people do too?

Once I sat on a plum pip that I left on the car seat while wearing beige pants. I walked all around the shops with a plum coloured mark on my left buttock. Sadly, I didn't realise until I arrived home and realised what had happened. The horror that overcame me can only be imagined. Now I just leave apple cores on the car seat, the marks are much less noticeable!

Now I would like to discuss the cats. As previously mentioned, I live in a house with three of them. Two are Bermans (snooty and furry; and appropriately enough are named Albert and Victoria) and one is a moggie that I saved from Death Row.

I never wanted to have cats. I am a bird and horse person and have enjoyed the company of those two species for most of my life. I don't mind cats, but I can take them or leave them. That was, until A & V were thrust into my world (and house).

We got the damn things because they weren't allowed in the house that their owners moved to due to the 'allergy' of the person already living in that house. I am highly suspicious of this claim. Often the 'allergy' ploy is used to avoid an unpleasant situation. Actually I think I am just jealous that I didn't think of it first. The main issue that I have with these cats is that they are long haired and hock up massive, wet furballs on a disgustingly regular basis. And they hock them up on MY STUFF. Examples of past horrors include: my clean washing; the bed; my shoes; the carpet; the middle of the dining table; and on the floor where I trod in it while wearing only socks. I believe this problem can be helped by brusing them. Well I sure as hell ain't brushing them, and the other half (whose responsibility they are) is too slack to brush them. And despite my Olympic level bitching about them, they refused to vanish in a puff of smoke.

I decided that if you can't beat them, join them. For my birthday last year, I bought myself a cat. He is a grey tabby who has turned out to be the absolute love of my life. This unexpected turn of events has surprised everyone, most of all me! He is incredibly naughty and enjoys standing on his back legs while meat is being prepared in the kitchen, waving a furry paw at the cutter and meowing in a very unmasculine tone, indicating imminent starvation. He attacks the older furry buggers continuously and minces away, spitting out mouthfuls of fur. He is opinionated, unruly and incredibly lovable all rolled up together.

I think the best thing is that when he is allowed into the bedroom in the morning, he jumps onto the bed and comes towards you across the bed, purring his head off, with a look in his eyes of sheer delight and surprise. 'Hello! You're here again! That's so great! I love you!' I must say that it is a very satisfying way to start the day, with a feeling of being someone's world. Even though that someone is small and can't speak English. And it's not the same when a horse gets on the bed, I find their shoes get stuck in the slats.

So the power is out on the morning that we are due to fly to Singapore. Subsequently, this led me to limp up and down Orchard Road for two hours, trying to find a pair of size ten women's shoes from a series of unsympathetic, tiny-footed sales people who looked at me in horror, with, 'No, we don't have shoes to fit you, you big footed freak' in an invisible thought bubble from their mouths.

Now the link between a power outage at my house and shoe buying may appear tenous at first glance, but bear with me...

In a moment of abject stupidity, I had planned a trip overseas in the middle of a post graduate course with two papers due around the time of that trip. I had planned to write the conclusion and send one of them via email that morning. But the power was out (see above) and I immediately lost all sense of reason and order. I forgot to pack my trip shoes, instead taking some strappy sandals that I thought would do the trick.

Off we went, and with only a couple of our traditional, furious arguments in the departure lounge, we were on the plane and in the air. What a great flight (to be continued.) We arrived safely and with my strappy sandals began what turned out to be an epic walking tour of Singapore. We, I should clarify, consists of myself, a 30 something Australian, and my boyfriend, also a 30 something Aussie. At home we have three cats. This is something that grates on my very soul (but also another story for another time.)

My feet seem to have latent blisters, ready to burst through at any opportunity and cause me immense pain. True to form, after a surprisingly short time they made an appearance causing me to immediately kick myself with my anguished feet. I bought some thongs that lasted about three hours then I found holes in new parts of my feet. Orchard Road beckoned but it was filled with evilly smiling sales people and small shoes. In the end I bought a pair of the ugliest shoes I have ever seen for a large amount of money. No surprises what happened about three hours after putting them on. Sigh...

In the end the bandaid shops in the city made a good profit from me and we discovered the delights of the MRT system. This had a two fold effect of saving my feet and making us completely unhappy with every single aspect of our own public transport system. The MRT is a miracle of clean, airconditioned and impeccably reliable transportation.

The irony that seems to accompany me on my life's journey is that I found a hugely comfortable pair of shoes in the airport while waiting to board the plane to bring us home.

So the moral of the story is, avoid post graduate education at all costs. And pack the night before.