There are days when something is definitely wrong with you; you feel neurotic, irritated and inadequate, for no obvious reason.
Today is one such day; everything is so disappointing and I am standing in front of the mirror, trying to figure out stuff.
“Is it because I am slowly ageing and the symptoms have started becoming evident? Ouch! What is this? My eyes are developing crow’s-feet? I have to regulate my laughter, that’s it.”
I read somewhere that 33 is the age when a woman is most beautiful in her entire life and the credit was given to the numerous achievements, almost at every ground—career, family and money.
“Well, now that I have crossed the bar, is there any use of shouting over spilt milk? My answer is—No.”
Then, I saw my slightly protruding belly; I sighed. Since, winters are over; it’s show time for all the fats consumed then. This further augmented my gloominess.
Leaving everything where it was, I went for a jog as if everything would evaporate just like that! Although, jogging gave temporary good feeling but deep down, my heart was still sinking. There was something else bothering me….
After much mind-drill, I came to a conclusion that it could be my aching false ego which got hurt by someone, intentionally or unintentionally, not sure! I said ‘ego’ and don’t regret it at all. It would have been safer if I called it ‘self-respect’ but trust me, I know the difference. I was having very superior feelings about myself, for long and everyone around fueled them, wholeheartedly. Instead of realizing that I am becoming addicted to hear all the goodies, I started taking pleasure. Even a slight blow was enough to bring me back to reality and it did, that too with a self realization—
“I may be ‘good’ but not ‘best’ and no matter how good I am; I can always be replaced.”
Undoubtedly, a good lesson but not as sweet as piece-of-cake to swallow, not today at-least. I have handled big rejections in life very well, and considered them a step towards being better and better; it’s really unpalatable if I am affected by such meager gestures of peers. So, No. Even this disqualified as the mood-spoiler.
Then what’s the matter? Is it…?
I got a spark in my brain, I picked up the mobile and looked for the tracker app, and there was the answer—All this irritation; all this grumpiness, just because…it’s THAT time of the month.
Damn you, PMS!