Harry Gurerra
Harry Gurerra is an arsehole. He makes me say things I really do not mean and worse, makes me see things in ways in which they usually would not appear to me. He makes me stand in the middle of an isle in Trader Joe’s supermarket and call my husband to say, virtually sobbing, “Why am I here? I don’t remember what we’re doing this week. What do I need to buy? What do you want to eat? I hate shopping. Why can‘t you do the shopping sometimes?!” Just like that, out of nowhere.
At 10 o’clock this morning I was already three chocolate bars in and my boss - who has the terrible misfortune during these times to sit opposite me - had to quietly endure my ever-growing-sad, long face. A dead giveaway when I am in the grip of Harry Gurerra is my appalling attire. The same boss will shake his head knowingly when I sit myself at my desk. I am usually dressed in a nightie under which I’ve been considerate enough to pull up some jeans or yoga pants. I am often still wearing my slippers and have - as I’ve shuffled out my front door - swathed myself in the most expensive jacket or cardigan I own in order to disguise everything else. I never do my hair or apply any make up, ever.
I’m perpetually surprised that Harry Gurerra hasn’t gotten me divorced or fired.
When I finally got home after this day of misery and torment, cramps and bloating (convinced with all my being that people had been pointing at my car as I'd driven by screaming, “Look, my God do you see that?! There’s a whale driving that car!!”), I found my husband quietly folding all the laundry. This made me cry some more. He had appeared to have already put away all the dishes too. He moved toward me taking the shopping and putting it on the table and let me fall into his arms. He held me very tightly and said, “Baby, it’s okay. You just lie down on the couch with a blanket, watch some Gossip Girl and eat some pot pie.”
“Gossip Girl isn’t on tonight,” I had sniffed.
“Well just some good, bad teli then. I can make you some tea. You know this will pass. Harry has just given you the blues, that‘s all Baby.”
Harry! It was my husband who invented this euphemism for menstruation in the first place. My mother is from Papua New Guinea and my three older sisters were all born there and all speak Tok Pisin as well as a little of the language of my mother’s village, Motu . In Motu, a woman’s menstrual cycle is called “hua-gorere”. “Hua” can mean - depending on context - “moon” or “monthly” and “gorere” means “sick”. So it’s called “moon-sick” or “monthly-sick”.
In my family, the women have always referred to this time of the month as “hua-gorere” (pronounced hoo-rare-gore-rare-rare). My nosy husband, once having deciphered the code, was never able to pronounce these Motu words correctly and eventually, came to refer to them as a him - Harry Gurerra, the arsehole. It stuck.
“Love of mine some day you will die
But I'll be close behind
I'll follow you into the dark
No blinding light or tunnels to gates of white
Just our hands clasped so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark
If heaven and hell decide
That they both are satisfied
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs
If there's no one beside you
When your soul embarks
Then I'll follow you into the dark”
Oh for the love of God, NOT that song, PLEASE!!! Beverly Hills 90210’s music supervisor has it in for me. Here come those tears again…
Damn you Harry! Damn you to hell!! Now where are those chocolate chip cookies?!
11 comments:
I seem to remember a few other words he couldn't pronouce...Oh, Mardi!!!!!!!!!!! How is that Palika Bum????
Brilliant my little moon twin!
Very funny V,
thats how I ended up eating Chocolate cake for lunch yesterday, it was all harry's fault!
you're not alone, Harry is visiting in Italy too... along with a bunch of flu viruses that have got me tied down in bed with feverish bronchitis.
You think those 'hire a hubby' guys could provide some support in these times? Maybe a good business idea... I would certainly mold the perfect husband on Matty.
xxxx you you feel better soon xxx
Received via email from a friend:
Hilarious. This piece came at the exact right time as I had a case of the Harry's yesterday... Some very explosive crazy moments ;-) Poor **insert BF's name nere**!! xox
Hey Gelly, how are you Summer? Good to see you hanging with the girls....
That Harry is a piece of work! He constantly pokes his nose in our lives as well, always undermining all the good work I do from his previous visit until he returns. Then we start all over again. Bully Beef Tin Head holds him responsible for some unprovoked challenges thrown his way!
Great, great story. Made me laugh so much and realise, it's such a common theme amongst the sisterhood.
Nin
V, I am ever so glad that Harry is
no longer in my life any more, eee madi. I had to laugh it is so funny,
Sinamu xo
Funny, I haven't seen that Harry guy for ages.....I'll tell you one way to avoid him V-
signed,
33wks pregnant.
(hint hint!)
Ah, I just had a conversation about this recently ... and think it's a good discussion for we ladies to have. Lest you think I'm a male interloper, I'll quick flash you my own achy, tender boobs:
(UU)!
and then say ... I don't really feel this way at all. Though the aches and pains and bloating and complexion issues that come each month are for sure a drag, I don't think it's all that bad a trade-off for what you get to do - create life! - because of it.
It IS a hassle, but how we deal with it is also a choice, I think. You can choose to not let it take over a week of your month. You still have the brain to choose between dissolving into a Cathy cartoon (ACK!) or just grin and bear (children) it. It's just another fact of life (that you get to create).
I've heard ladies make "Sorry, I had PMS" as an excuse for atrocious behavior, and I think it's wrong. It's just giving the sexist dogs out there another thing to gnaw on, when we expect to be treated differently every month. I'm not sure we can have it both ways - be seen as strong, capable women, but put that on hold and demand to be coddled for a while each month? I even heard it as a reason to not elect Hilary President (when there are at least 100 more valid ones), but then if she were to curl up in a ball and bitch at everyone for a week as President - well, it WOULD be a good reason not to elect her. What if Men came to the office in sweats and said their penis hurt and yelled at everyone for no good reason every month? We'd kill them! So ... I guess what I'm saying is maybe do an experiment and try to be lovely and active and COPE next month, and see if maybe it doesn't have to be such a big deal? After all, caving in to it is letting the terrorists (aka Harry Gurerras)win!
(I'm not trying to be contrary, it's just really how I've always felt.)
Wow CJ, you are A MUCH better woman than I.
When PMS takes me over it does so to varying degrees. I can go quite a few months in a row with little effect and it’s so mild I can override it with my sensibilities. Some months however – for usually 1-2 days in a row, it can consume me. The actual point I bring here is actually the exact point that you counter - how a perfectly normal and rational human being most of the time can become so overwhelmed and come undone like this. This is MY story. Clearly I would not make a great President of the United States. You are obviously very lucky to be able to choose not to feel this way when it comes around. I would NOT choose to feel this way if I could. Matt doesn’t so much indulge or “coddle” me either as show exemplary consideration. I am just lucky to have an intuitive husband who knows when to tell me to buck up and when to say, “You don’t have to be strong today, I can take care of it.” And for this I am ever thankful. We are a team and we can carry each other when the other might need carrying.
I think it is a fact of life that women can be this way - that this is something that can sometimes overtake us. Some months I can fight it, some months I really can’t. It is not an “excuse” for my bad behavior either but it is a “reason”. And as thus, I am aware and try so hard to keep a level head, knowing very well in my head what is causing my behavior but then still, at the end of the day sometimes, I am simply not able to help myself – LITERALLY. Then the cycle of guilt ensues, feeling so badly for being a bad person to someone who might not have deserved it. I DO NOT CHOOSE THIS.
I think we deserve (as nurturers of life) to have more men who can be sensitive to it – like my husband – rather than ones who want to perpetually hold it up as an excuse to prevent women from certain things. If we are going to generalize, there are millions of testosterone-fuelled incidents that would leave me to believe that men might not be right for certain things. If it is a drag for women and a fact of life that we have to deal with to be able to bear children, then it is the fact of life and a drag for them that men have to put up with it. It takes two to create.
I’ve actually always believed that PMS is primarily here to include men more intimately in the process. Our outward expression of these hormones (that can rage out of control internally and overwhelm us) is usually directed at our partners. In a way, I believe that it’s the universe righting the balance. In a small way each month, the men get to endure a little of the awfulness that we feel, carry part of that burden (or gift) of the cycle of creating life. Go teamwork!
That's how I've always felt.
What's my excuse for being in a bad mood everyday from 7am to 1:30pm then?
And I had a girlfriend who broke up with me once a month. We dated for several years. She said she stopped taking the pill and isn't that bad anymore. I'll just have to take her word for it!
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