A Letter To My Hypothalamus

I am sick. I have the flu. So not fun.

Also, you folks put up with a lot around here. I re-read my whiney post of a couple days ago, and am rather embarrassed. I have come to the conclusion that several important areas in my life were disturbed at a very volatile time of the month for me. In that vein, I have devised the following letter to my hypothalamus, in hopes to stem future episodes.

Dear Hypothalamus,
Hi! We’ve never been formerly introduced, but I think you’ll agree that we’re intimately acquainted. We’ve been working together for over 30 years now, and I want you to know that I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me. I mean, it’s due, in part, to you that those Mensa people are always trying to get me to join their little club. So, many thanks for that.
But I figured it was time I wrote you a letter for a very different reason. See, about once a month, I become an insufferable, whiney biotch. I endure horrible abdominal cramps, yell at my husband, cry uncontrollably, and, most recently, have begun forcing internet-surfers of the world to share my pain. Dude, that is so not cool.
After doing some research, Hypothalamus, I have discovered that, although the pituitary gland and the ovaries (and their respective follicles) are very much to blame for this monthly torture, it all originates with a little signal from you, and therefore you are the main culprit. I’m a firm believer in getting to the heart of the problem, and I’m sorry to say, Hypothalamus, that it appears to be you in this case. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but that little signal you send to the pituitary gland is the beginning of a merciless regime over both my girly bits and my sanity.
I have pondered over this for many hours, and I believe that I am prepared to present you with a solution that will be satisfying for all involved. My idea, dear Hypothalamus, is joint custody. As it stands, you pretty much signal the overtaking of the girly bits and sanity, mentioned above, for several days, in a rather consistent manner. I propose that you allow for joint custody, which would turn over these essential physical parts to me for an agreed-upon time, during which I will experience some relief from the symptoms I’ve already discussed.
Let me elaborate. Say you allow me custody between 3am and 3pm during these several days in the monthly cycle. In the morning, I can bring the bits and the sanity to the park! I will push them on the swings and let them dig in the sand for as long as they wish. Then, we will walk home in the sunshine, to enjoy petits-fours, bonbons and iced tea. We will do each other’s nails and listen to the Cranberries, and finally settle down to a long nap.
See how I have set up an oasis of happiness for me and my bits? And my sanity? Well, here’s where you take over! You can come in and smash our oasis and erect your House of Pain. You can make everyone eat broccoli and listen to classical music and walk around wearing nothing but 6-inch heels, a tampon, and a beer hat filled with Ovaltine (gross). You can call Uterus fat and insult Sanity (she’s fragile). You can repeatedly ask the Ovaries (henceforth referred to as “the twins”) why they can’t be more like Vagina.
Some will say this is harsh. In my mind, though, several half-days of torture beats a few full days of misery easily. And I can get through the hours during which you have custody by thinking about my turn! The park! And the bonbons! This, I can do, and do happily.
So, I humbly ask that you consider this proposal and get back to me in, say, three weeks at the latest. No worries, I’ll have all the necessary papers drawn up. It is my hope that this arrangement will bring us all closer and provide for a more stable, understanding relationship in general. After all, aren’t we working toward the same goals? You know, we are one, and all that? You complete me?
Thank you for your consideration. Yours sincerely,
Tree

Ps: Incidentally, have you seen Libido around? She’s been MIA since Liam was born. If you see her, can you let her know I’m looking for her? And that she’s got a letter coming to her next?