I usually like to tell myself that even though I am a woman, I am a unique being, and my emotions are not governed by any sort of cycle, that I am no slave to pheromones, but then approximately once a month I suddenly and deeply and aggressively hate that I have hair and the fact that we have to wear clothes and go places and do things and I lose all patience for everything and  all I want to do is cry while punching things while sleeping while Doritos are inserted into me intravenously, and then I remember that I am Eve, who is usually agreeable, but today you’ll find her cursing the sky, cussing at animals, searching for snacks. 

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