Hormones Are Taking Over My Body

  I'm currently reading David Starkey's Six Wives, which follows the lives, marriages, and deaths of King Henry VIII's wives. Excellent book, by the way, for those of you, like me, fascinated by insane kings. Anyway, one part I found interesting was how women back then (or at least Queens, it doesn't really talk too much about the common folk) had confinements, sometimes for months, before their babies were born, and then often for quite some time after the birth. I chalked this down to over-protection of pregnant royals and left it at that. I think I know the real reason now, though. And the reason is hormones.

  Honestly, who wants to be stuck dealing with a pregnant woman? I sure as heck wouldn't want to be in McKay's place right now. He essentially acts as my slave these days, trying his best to appease me at all times, whether that be by going to buy me a cooking chocolate at ten at night because I have a craving for brownie batter, or patiently sitting through last season's So You Think You Can Dance videos with me, or whatever else the hormones can think of to demand. Just imagine if I were Queen and could shout, "OFF WITH HIS HEAD!" at any moment. And, really, who wants their head placement based off of the whims of body-snatching hormones? I sure wouldn't.

  I have taken to sitting in sullen silence much of the time, because I know if I make a comment about, say, how I enjoyed that thing that one character said in that one part of that one movie we watched the other week (my hormones have forced me to be vague on all points, because it has destroyed both my short and long term memory), he will question me as to my meaning, and then I will become this:

 
  And nobody wants that.