P.M.S.

They told me that chemotherapy would send my body into menopause; I was resigning myself to the fact that I’m a one-breasted, gray-haired, little old lady with no hope of… well, regular hormones. In Oregon, I was doing really good on staying away from sugar, for three days that is. Then, I was craving chocolate like there was no tomorrow and caramel and saltwater taffy and… where was I? Oh yeah, finally on the last day of our trip, I realized that there’s no menopause happening here. That would explain the uncontrollable cravings. PMS should stand for “pretty miserable sugar-cravings” because that’s what it is for me.

 

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