Whose idea was it, exactly, to assemble human beings in the manner in which they are made?
Clearly, "intelligent design" is a fallacy. There is nothing intelligent about the design, for example, of the human reproductive system. Why would an Omnipotent Deity deliberately choose to subject women to cyclical ebb-and-flow for half -- or a greater fraction -- of their lives? It's nonsensical.
There is the follicular phase: the world is rosy; energy is abundant even without a significant food intake; and the physical proximity of other human beings (particularly men) is enticing and welcome. In contrast, there is luteal phase: the glass is half empty; copious quantities of carbohydrates are absolutely vital in order to slog through the daily grind; and touch, which may oftentimes be necessary to keep unpredictable tears at bay, can be either a relief (aloe on a sunburn) or an irritation (sandpaper across tender skin). Round and round, week after week, month after month, highs and lows. It's a cruel merry-go-round.
Interminably, too, as women age, the spectre of menopause creeps closer. Unpredictable bodily changes will surface -- hot flashes, night sweats, mood alterations -- and are additional indignities to understand and tolerate. Though it may be a relief for some to know that the up-and-down of cycling is finally coming to an end, it can nevertheless be devastating for a woman to realize that she is irrevocably and completely biologically irrelevant. Useless. Undesirable.
Old.
Today, as Herself eyeballs that container of ice cream in the freezer and chews on her fingernails, wishing for someone to brush her hair, she recognizes that she has not yet hit the "change of life." She knows that, given statistics, it is nearby on the horizon. While she resents being held in thrall to her sometimes erratic biological rhythms, all the same, she dreads the unknown that she faces.
She fears that the first hot flash will incinerate her soul into naught but ashes.
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