According to my male friends, there’s nothing more frightening than an enraged woman. “It’s like sleeping with the enemy — I flinch every time she moves, thinking she’s gonna punch me,” confides a friend of mine, who also happens to be a mixed martial arts champion. His girlfriend is about half his size and has no martial arts training.
However, explaining premenstrual syndrome to a man is like explaining clouds to a blind person. Men find it hard to believe that it’s really that powerful since they can’t grab a handful of it. I have a feeling that deep down, they suspect that we made up the whole PMS thing in order to get away with murder, while being hand-fed dark chocolate. I understand the doubts:
How is it possible that some tiny hormonal shifts can make your entire worldview change?
Surely, we must be able to overcome hormonal imbalances with sheer will power? The answer is no. When PMS strikes, I feel like Kali, the Hindu Goddess of destruction: I bash everything that is beautiful, sacred, or simply happens to be in my way.
One must recall the popular story about how Kali — quite definitely in a bout of hormonal rage — went berserk and started killing every human being in her way. The other Hindu gods worried that soon there would be no folks left if Kali didn’t cool down. They went to Shiva, Kali’s male counterpart, begging for help. Shiva left his state of deep meditation, went over to Kali, and lay down in front of her. She was just about to slay him when she realized it was Shiva, whom the whole universe’s existence depended on. Not a good idea! Without Shiva, there’d be no universe, and no Kali either.
Although he was able to deter Kali for a brief moment, Shiva wasn’t able to sedate her.
She still runs outrageously mad, ready to continue her rampage, swords in all four of her blood-covered hands.
He realized that he needs to be clever in order to solve this. So he challenged Kali to a dancing contest. Shiva is also known as the lord of dance, since he conveys his infinite knowledge through the cosmic dance style called the Tandava.
And Kali is not a bad dancer either. Tossing her shiny hair — wearing only a skirt of human arms and a necklace of human skulls — she follows Shiva’s every move, and on top of that she sticks her tongue out to tease him. They continue the dance for what seems like forever, and the other gods let out a sigh of relief that Kali is no longer on a killing spree. Shiva, on the other hand, is getting exhausted and wants to go back to his meditation. He throws one leg behind his head, and as Kali is about to mirror him, she realizes…well, she isn’t wearing any underwear.
"See you later,” she hisses at Shiva as she takes off.
Humanity is safe — at least for another three weeks or so.
Ewa Josefsson writes the “Goodness” column for SimplyGood from the intersection of ancient wisdom and modern ignorance. She is currently working on ways to get away with murder while being hand-fed dark chocolate.