The Egg is Dead. Long Live the Egg.
The human female is born already in possession of all her eggs, up to 300,000 of them (Gale Encyc. of Childhood and Adolescence, 1998).
Many years ago, I read a whole whack of books on cycles and fertility. Since then, I always know where I'm at in my cycle, based on a number of physiological factors and cumulative evidence. Evidence like the fact that I have been known to coast through red lights - accidentally - when I have PMS (this is NOT a good thing).
In recent years, I have discovered the dead egg phenomenon. At a certain point a number of days after ovulation, I will suddenly become aware that I have a sense of profound sadness. I am overcome. I am bereft. And there will be no real good reason for it. I will review my life at the moment, looking for the cause of this immense physiological grief, and a small voice in the back of my head will say, "The egg is dead."
Long live the egg.
2 Comments:
You are so cute, squirrel. ovum infinitus!
Dang, and here I am still using those strips ones pees on to note the presence of the egg! (Well, and some general emotional cues.)
Me to TheLimey: You'll be back from your fishing trip on Sunday? Good.
TL: Why?
Me: Because I only make 12 eggs a year.
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