{period}

You would think I would catch on.  Being anything but novice in this department albeit well into my high school years before claiming this badge of womanly honor, I should just get it.  I really hate to use the word dense to describe anyone, particularly myself, but for lack of a better descriptor and for the mere metaphorical undercurrent {You'll see what I did there soon enough.} it evokes, let's call this spade just exactly what she is.

After the 5th trip to the pantry for, I don't know, you name it:

• Heaping handfuls of potato chips stuffed barbarically into your mouth creating tiny salt rimmed mouth corner cuts that you could care less about.
• Candy mixed with half eaten stale pop tarts left resting like dead soldiers in the bottom of the box.
• Ice cream paired with a slice of cheese.  A procedural inhalation of one then the other.
• Well, and I mean well, expired leftovers of soup saturated with cracker crumbs downed with one massive glass of...wait for it... orange juice.

ALL AT 11:30 in the PM.

What.the.HAYYY?

That would be the clue phone ringing.  Do I answer?  Nah. Do I even hear it?  Yep, you guessed it. Not a clue.  I just continue to engulf my person with the highest form of synthetic toxins only to verbally report with true damsel-like ignorance, "I have NO idea why I am so hungry."

It's time I stop this flow {You'll see what I did there soon enough} and break it down like some kinda James for us all.  Because the above is just step 1 of 5 kinds of crazy we women endure for the sake of oh, being female.

Period.

Yeah, I said it.

While it is important to keep this discussion AHEM, above the belt, I will not deny the justice quite deserved to these five steps of CRAY. Women across the hormonal world, FIST BUMPS, y'all.  Men, please take note.  Consider this your friendly reminder/DON'T EVER USE THIS AS A CRUTCH FOR THE REASON AN ARGUMENT OCCURRED.

Five Kinds of CRAY

1.  MASSIVE CONSUMPTION:  If it isn't nailed down or 2 months old, it gets eaten.  Forget that you ate 20 minutes ago.  The drive to inhale ginormous amounts of Sasquatch portions of calories commences.

2.  FRAT PARTY ACNE:  I'm not talking your typical beauty bump.  I'm talking the eclectic variety.  You know, kinda like party guests.  You never invite all the same kind of people to a party, do you?  No.  Well, neither does Captain Hormone.  Oh, big boy is all about some variety.  King of the fraternity known for pArTaY inclusion, you can guarantee a host of tiny pimples ready for a "HOW YOU DOIN?" welcome.  You know those "caucasian" in color who just need one teensy push and they scatter like the introverts you wish they would remain.  Next up on the guest list would be the big man on campus.  Those tumor like in size and brawny in proportion.  They're the guys that hole up in the corners {like your chin and beside your ear} only to gawk and taunt pangs of party obscenities at other attendees.  They're the bullies with their own heartbeats under your skin.  And who can forget those weirdoes on the guest list.  You know the squirrely sort that shown up at the wrong time and in all the wrong places? {i.e. Your ear lobe or your...wait for it...NECK!}  INSERT RED SOLO CUP TOAST HERE.

3.  IRRATIONAL ROLLER COASTER RIDES:  I can't help but lean on those good fellas, The Beatles, for this one.  She's got a ticket to ride but she don't care, anyone?  Woman of the hormonal world, fist bumps, y'all.  If it's a BIG DEAL, let's cry about it.  Pout even.  If it's a LITTLE DEAL, let's cry about it.  Pout even.  Balance?  Perspective?  What's are those absurd bundles of letters?  Ahh, the proverbial thin sheet of ice just when the rink master calls out "ALL SKATE!"  Niiice.

4.  NO, I AM NOT A FLOTATION DEVICE:  From the inside, you feel completely certain of buoyancy.  And when I say completely, I mean GRAB ON. We'll just float to the buffet.  It's as if the idea of ONE SIZE can't possibly FIT ALL.  You feel yourself growing. Yes, physically, you feel it.  No ebb.  Just flow.  {Nice one, Meg.}

5.  SATAN, YOU IN THERE?:  You don't even know it's happening.  It's as if you are demon possessed. Lucifer rises up with his wretchedly pointed pitch fork only to puncture into you a rising sense of "Oh, snap.  I may just kill someone."  You don't, of course.  But, dang, you might as well have with the looks you are handing out like Halloween candy on 10/31.  And the worst part?  It.feels.soooo.good.  There. I said it.  Further proof that Eve was clearly outside of her head STOOOPID when she ate that apple that caused all this mayhem.

Yup.  I think that covers it.  And the best part?  This madness ensues cyclically.  That's right.  NEVER-ENDING. And EVERY.STINKING.TIME, it takes us by surprise.  In a 4 week time span, you're looking at a solid 2.5 weeks of clarity.  Easy living.  Clean, balanced thinking.  The other 1.5 weeks are absolutely redonkulous.  Redonkulous is not a word, Meg. Um, yeah, I know.  And those 1.5 weeks of sheer insanity are the equivalent to the absurdity of that eleven letter imposture.

It gets better.  Menopause is like the mecca of all CRAY.  It begins with chin hairs and hot flashes.  Who me? I'm in that delightful transitional stage. It's like I get 2 for the price of one PLUS the hormonal dollar.  Ahh, Eve.  You.are.my.gurl.  Tell me it was at least a Honeycrisp apple.  

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It is such a privilege to be a part of your holiday celebrations. With each candle lit in your home amid this season of gratitude as well as each one wrapped & ready to be gifted under your tree, k.Mac says thank you. I am honored and humbled that the work of my hands is deemed worthy to be included. Please enjoy these scents at SALE price all season long. Go here to place your orders.  My absolute holiday favorite is Fresh Cut Christmas!