A miscarriage, or spontaneous abortion, happens during the first trimester of a woman’s pregnancy. Sometimes,  a woman can be so busy or preoccupied with so many things that it would be hard to spot the changes in her body. The way I failed to spot it…

So after one “wild night,” the next day went bloody all over. I was changing pads like an incontinent baby, perhaps, around 16 that day. The blood just kept going from the moment I woke up, having stained my bed linen and dripped all over.

Worst of all, and my own sister would confirm this, is that the pain is the sharpest, most excruciating pain a woman could feel in her abdomen. However, if the woman has a high threshold for pain, the symptom may be presumed dysmenorrhea, or menstrual cramps.

That was what I thought, for I had just stopped going to pilates and yoga classes a week before.

By the time I realised what was happening to me–chills, shivers, sweat and a slight fever included–it was far too late in the night to visit a doctor. Getting the chills and a slight fever is the body’s reaction to any foreign object that may cause an inflammation or infection in the body; the worst kind of infection in the uterus is sepsis. Sepsis occurs when a spontaneous abortion is incomplete; that is, when there are traces of the expended fetus remaining in the uterus.

To ensure that the uterus is free of any sepsis-causing organism, a woman needs to undergo what people call a “D&C,” the acronym of dilation and curettage. The procedure is similar to what women undergo when they have elected to abort a fetus.

It took me a while to realise that the chunk that was expended into the toilet bowl was “it”. It was no bigger than a human fist, just like the heart.

It would have been my second child. Right now, though, I find it hard to talk about it–even with my husband.

This link to why really smart men are lousy at dating women does not — I repeat, does NOT — come from an authoritative website. However, the points enumerates therein seem plausible. Have a look at the article here, and forget about the last part which contains an e-book for downloading.

Here’s an article about intelligent women and their bad choices: cruel men.

Finally, a page featuring the work of three sisters who wrote about (and loved) cruel men. You guessed it: Meet the Brontes!

Every person we meet in this world is accorded a number of hours, sometimes minutes, in which we can be happy with him or her. As the reminder goes, “What’s important is that we be happy during the time we’re together.”

But what if things go awry as the hours drag on? Or what if one cannot stand the other’s company for more than two hours?

The solution, then, is to time your company!

If you know you cannot, for the sake of good company and a cheerful time together, spend more than two hours together without getting into a row, then by all means, take your leave after two hours!

Take charge of your life, woman! Maximise happiness time!

You could not possibly have enough time for every single person you meet; therefore, the people whom you should spend the most time with are those with whom you hardly quarrel, precisely because you mesh well together.

Hedwig and the Angry Inch is a story about a young, beautiful East German boy whose mother castrated him in order to get him out of East Germany. How, do you ask? As a sudden “woman,” he was wed (again, arranged by his mother) to a homosexual, paedophilic American GI who happened to lurk around the Berlin wall in search for some “candy”. Abandoned by his GI husband, Hedwig starts a band, makes it big in the trucker-filled 24-hour diner circuit and eventually falls in love with a young folk guitarist named Tommy. The precocious and manipulative Tommy become famous through Hedwig’s compositions, and eventually eclipses Hedwig in the fame department. At the end of the film, we find Hedwig walking naked, androgynous, into a dark alley, neither homosexual nor heterosexual, but just as he is.

He ends his part on screen in search of someone who will love him just as he is.

In Breakfast on Pluto, young Irish actor Cillian Murphy plays a transvestite in search of his mother, who supposedly looks like a famous ’50s film star. In the end, he does find his mother (and father, too), but chooses not to reveal his identity to her. His karmic reward, however, for not “rocking the boat” so to speak, is suddenly acquiring a family.

The heterosexual transvestite finds two people who shall love him just as he is.

Any woman wants to be loved just as she is.

And Bridget Jones is a lucky britch.

Think you’re in the doldrums because you’re not dating anyone? Get a dopamine surge here.

Interesting quote: “A brand new person briefly raises your dopamine more than a familiar partner, however loving.” The operative word: briefly. 

No paper heart-strings attached, if an encounter be your recourse.

The same link describes the “coolidge effect,” a known behaviour in male rats. Rats, mind, not human beings.

I was slighted some few days ago by a person who couldn't think of anyone's success except hers that it was so difficult a task for her to utter the word, "GREAT" versus the obligatory word "good".

Here's an article from Psychology Today about how to make amends.

Especially those one should make to oneself. No one need endure anything not worth one's while, especially the unimportant details we can all fritter away as easily as saying "Goodbye."

Adieu, faux bon femme.