17 March 2008

Female Werewolves



Ice Cream Is Not the Answer to all ills, except, when it is. One week a month it most definitely is in my house.

It’s a natural cycle, age old and eternal, to be repeated by others like me until time fades to nothing. So often we interrupt the natural cycles of life in favor of the artificial. We don’t sleep when we’re tired, we don’t eat when we’re hungry, we don’t retreat when we need to be alone and we don’t unhesitantly seek out others when we need to be engulfed in external energy. But every 28 to 30 days, I’m caught up in a cycle I have to deal with no matter what else is going on. And I deeply appreciate it.

We spend most of our time locked on schedules, adhering to time tables and attempting to be seen as reliable and unchanging, when change is inherent to us as people and especially to us women. The world has always known this and has honored it in legends. Yes, men traditionally played the preternatural heroes and monster of old, but they were obviously based upon the change and mystery of women.

We are shifters, slipping our mundane skin along with the moon cycle, allowing the inner beast to run free with just the barest sense of consequence. I mean when else can you eat a pint of Edy’s Drumstick ice cream and Pringles blazing buffalo chips, together, and call it dinner without anyone blinking? Some don’t say anything because they grow to understand over time and take it in stride. But most, most silently watch the change from a distance with a weary eye. They know that to move too quickly, speak too loudly or in any way be thought to have let slip a criticism, is to become meat for the beast.

And don’t tell me I don’t change my shape. I have the bigger bras to prove it! 20 to 25 days of being too big, 5 to 10 days of fitting perfectly. You don’t get more natural change of shape than a cup size that comes and goes at will. LOL. And do I need to even go into the cravings and intense demands for things that only the day before we walk passed in a store and never notice? Or the complete mood shifts that take us from tears at a long distance commercial to anger over a news clip, to laughter at a toddlers antics over a three minute span?

We are the original wild card, the visible manifestation of Nature’s mysteries, that which changes and yet stays enough as we were to return to our original forms once more. We are the werewolves of old and rightly so, as man only learned to respect the dark when he realized there was something to fear in it.

Outside of the recent movie Skinwalkers, women are rarely shown as shifters. They say it’s not sellable because it’s not as natural and not as sexy. I say that not only are they wrong (have you ever seen a woman on the prowl at the peak part of her cycle), but they don’t know the half of it...

Women as Wolves/Cycles Ramble Done

~X
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