An excuse

One of the things I love about being female, and it is entirely a female thing, is that every once in a while, things just make sense, from a biological perspective. If you know what I mean.


Last Friday I received some information regarding my medical benefits that was moderately worrisome. I fretted about it off and on through the weekend. On Monday, I received some further information, but with no resolution plan in sight, it conjured up an extra dose of worry.


Throughout the day on Monday, I kept reminding myself of the serenity prayer, the thing that often helps me find the center of calm. But I was still distressed.


And last night, my lovely Cristy-bella made some mini chocolate brownie lava cakes. With great restraint, I ate only one and it was delicious. I immediately felt better, not just because of the chocolate, but that never hurts.


I didn’t stew that much this morning about the situation, but a little signal reminded me that even at my advanced age, stress and anxiety almost always accompany a normal human function, of the female persuasion.

And I feel even better with the knowledge that I have a built-in, gender-ready excuse for my grumpy worrisome distress of the past couple of days. It’s almost as though I get to write myself an excuse. As a young girl, I used to love it when my mom would write an excuse note for me – it was like a huge sigh of relief. This feels EXACTLY the same way.