Phase 1: Estradiol ascendant.
This is a week for laying foundations. Your uterus is preparing, and so are you. Send networking emails. Up your 401k contribution. This is a good time for buying a house, planting a garden, beginning a new workout regimen, and plotting the overthrow of a small island.
Phase 2: Ovulatory Eclipse.
THIS IS A WEEK FOR GETTING SHIT DONE. You are a monster a tidal wave an earthquake of power. Luteinizing hormone peaks; Men, women, and non-binary people want you. Annoying coworkers scatter in your wake. Dogs shake your hand and and small children kiss you on the cheek. Birds try to impress you with the complexity of their mating calls. Your ex texts you but you ignore it. Your boss volunteers to work over the weekend to help get your project done. Ludacris calls — he wants to do an “All I Do is Win” remix with you. Schedule job interviews and large presentations for this week. Smize at interviewers, magnanimously delighting in the pregnant pause, the brief moment of ignorance before they realize you are the one they’ve been waiting for. Tilt your head as you listen to their questions, then calmly unleash a soliloquy of cleverness and humility and warmth and competence that takes them the closest to orgasm someone in HR can get, in or out of the office.
They will contemplate writing themselves up afterward, but are too busy refreshing their inbox, waiting for you to accept the offer.
Phase 3: Progesterone Descendant, or, “PMS”.
Society has long denigrated the ancient wisdom that comes the week before your period starts. Society also hates a woman who says no. Fuck the haters — this is a week for cutting shit off. No time for bullshit or unimpressive sexual partners. Others may tell you you’re moody when in reality you’re just not fucking taking it anymore. Settling is in retrograde — BURN IT TO THE GROUND.
This is also a week for decadence. Enjoy the fruits of your preparation and calculated risks. You don’t have to choose — eat cheese and receive oral sex at the same damn time.
Phase 4: Luteal Peak, or, menstruation.
This is a week for quiet contemplation. Your period has arrived but you were already there, calmly waiting. Write notes to old friends. Mend old wounds and clothing with missing buttons. Call your grandmother. Sweep up the ashes of things you’ve burned to the ground, thank them for what they have taught you, KonMari-style, and then release them from a cliff into the ocean. Take up making woodblock prints of women releasing ashes from a cliff into the ocean. Show no one your work — it’s for you. Progestin is at its nadir. Pause. Inhale.