Most of the time I love being a woman. I say most of the time because there are twelve weeks a year when I absolutely hate it. With a pink and purple polka dot passion.

I've never been regular, except for when I was on The Pill. But I thought I had finally figured my cycle out and could predict when I'd start. But I was WRONG!

I've been keeping track on a calendar by counting twenty-eight days from the start of one to what should be the start of the next. And have never been right, I either start a day or two early or nearly a week later.

So this last time I counted thirty days, that's how many days from July's to August's.

That means I'm not supposed to start until Tuesday. Except Mother Nature hates me. I went to the bathroom a couple of hours ago and discovered I have started early. Not that I really mind. I'm just glad I'm not at work.