Very little topical-to-the-blog business going on this week. Waiting for the new cycle to start, which could happen anytime from NOW (nope, not yet) . . . to NOW? (psych! another false alarm) . . . to early next week.
I wish someone would name that Aunt Flo fake-out feeling, don't you? Wonder what Braxton & Hicks are working on these days. Ah, well, Wikipedia tells me I had it wrong. BH is NOT a researching duo and not nearly as contemporary as I'd imagined — it's just one guy who is 200 years' worth of dead.
Dang, that was such a logical condition-naming choice, too:
"Oh, my dear young girl, you're not really getting AF right now — that's just what we experienced ladies know is Braxton Hicks AF. Don't worry, you'll KNOW when the real AF shows up. Why, soon you'll be looking back on all these Braxton Hicks AF feelings you're having, and you'll just LAUGH . . ."
I'd submit corporate heavyweight Procter & Gamble as a good second choice, but I fear their only interest in raising awareness about this widespread (yet largely misunderstood) thang would be financial gain. I can imagine them leveraging the sponsorship into a bid to get women to use some form of feminine protection every single day of the year for the rest of their natural lives. Oh wait, they already do that.
So, since Masters (dead) & Johnson (not dead yet but likely still mad at Masters) no longer work together and Ashford & Simpson appear to be busy running and performing at their NYC club, I WILL JUST HAVE TO HANDLE THIS SITUATION MYSELF.
From here on out, I officially capitalize the Aunt Flo Fake-Out Feeling and, thus, will freely and easily acronym-ize it as AFFOF. To be pronounced, by me, with an accented first syllable, as in AFF-uhv.
Back to work I go.