Belated. Period.

This morning I was issued a belated Thank You from a very good friend who I had the pleasure of taking to dinner when I was in Los Angeles last month. She's damn lucky that I don't consider anything officially "belated" until I've gone through a full menstrual cycle. For example, if someone misses my birthday (JANUARY 19th, write it down), and I happen to be ovulating at the time, said idiot is permitted a grace period that expires when I finish my next excruciating ovulation.

Side Note:
Most women experience painful cramps whilst Auntie Flow is in town. In my case, the cramps hardly warrant popping an Advil. However, my cross to bear arrives approximately 2 weeks before Auntie Flow. It's the most intense, sharp pain in my side (right or left, depending on which ovary is producing the egg that month), below my belly button and about 1-2 inches on either side, every 28 days. It hurts so badly that if I were a real pussy about it, I'd say "Ouch" out loud, a lot. I tend to contract my stomach muscles and wince instead. Sometimes it's hard to walk or take deep breaths. It's like my fallopian tube, which for the average woman is the diameter of a pencil, is squeezing a shot put toward my uterus. For 24-36 hours double-fist pain reliever and suffer in the name of Betty Friedan.

This unique feature of The Shan's plumbing had better come in handy should I ever decide to go for the turkey baster, and make a Little Shan. (AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!) But I can't help but feel bad for the breeder ladies out there who could really benefit from an ovulation dectector like mine. Their bodies could tell them, on cue, "Don't have sex now, unless you want to have sex AND a baby. You're ripe as hell, bitch."