It's that time of the month,
When all things in their
Natural balance, are disturbed
And nothing you can do can
Will appease her, if she gets
The wrong reaction.

NO, NO, NO! Not that TIME OF THE MONTH;
When you walk a thin line for only days,
Saying, "this will soon pass."
The OTHER time of the month.

While the two of you are out shopping,
Or if she asks to go to local
Pharamacy with out any prescription
Needing to be filled;
Everything is fine, hunky dory,
Peachy keen, until you start to pass the
Cosmetic Aisle, indicating the start of

The Dreaded COSMETIC HUNT,
Time of the month!

Disgust takes over, when she says,
" I just be a minute" and proceeds
Down the Entrapment Aisle.
You tell her you'll be back
In a few minutes, she mumbles OK,
Leans over, and starts studying
Little jars that can set you
Back a months mortgage.

You leave her, and go to
Expore the Eighth, Ninth,and Tenth
Wonders of the World;
Electronics, power tools,
And action packed movies.

You return to the bankruptcy aisle,
About fifteen minutes later,
To find she hasn't moved
One inch to left or to the right,
Bent over, butt in the air,
Her blouse cut low
Enough to be tantalizing,
With the right amount of
Cleavage showing, stirring your senses.
You want to take her right
There and now, video cameras,
Other customers, and the whole
World watching, NO PROBLEM!


She turns her head towards you,
Stands upright, smiles, adding to
The allure you just witnessed, and
Holds two small jars eye level
To you and asks the the question,
If answered wrong, will mean
A long, cold, silent, ride home;
And flannel pajamas in bed.
" Which do you think will
Look best on me?" she
Asks, as the smile never leaves
Her lips.

To be continued...