One day, I picked up my daughter JULIA (7) and her friend JAKE from school. As I made sure the two of them were buckled in properly, Julia suddenly BURST INTO TEARS!  

ME:       What’s wrong, honey? Did you hurt yourself?
JULIA:   No.
ME:       Did something happen at school today to upset you?
JULIA:  No.
ME:      Then why are you crying?
JULIA: (sobbing fiercely) I don’t know. I don’t want to cry, but my body’s making me! 

I smiled. She was only seven, but I suddenly understood. The female hormones were already rearing their irrationally psychotic heads. I HATE when that happens.

ME: Oh, honey. It’s okay. It happens to us girls a lot. Especially when we get older. Just let it out. And when you’re done, you’ll feel better.

She nodded and accepted this without further questioning. Perhaps her little female intuition told her she didn’t want to know more about the irrationality that was in store for her. At least not yet.

I turned to her friend Jake who, like most men when confronted with such an outburst, cowered in the corner of the back seat, puzzled and more than a little shell-shocked at this scene of unprovoked emotion. I looked at him empathetically.

ME:  Scary, huh, Jake?  Well, buckle up, buddy. It only gets worse.

And it does. Anyone who has a girl or IS a girl knows we women are at the mercy of our emotions. Heck, even Hillary Clinton knows this (remember she broke down while campaigning in New Hampshire which may have lost her the presidency).  And it comes out of nowhere with no explanation!

I mean, just the other day, it happened to me! I took Julia to school. Granted I was feeling a little rundown which had kept me from sleeping well. And when I did sleep, there were nightmarish dreams of tripods and Russian kidnappers.

So I pulled up to the curb in the drop-off lane and Julia hopped out. As I started to pull away, she turned and looked at me. I don’t know what it was. That crooked smile she gave me. The little discreet wave of her hand. The way her too-long bangs brushed against her eyelashes. But as she turned and headed toward the gate into school, I BURST INTO TEARS.

I DIDN’T WANT TO CRY, BUT MY BODY WAS MAKING ME!

And as I wiped away the tears, it came to me. What Julia and I and all humans of the female persuasion feel from time to time….

INEXPLICABLE DISCOMFITURE

Somehow, the words fit. Julia immediately latched on to them and uses the term now to explain her crying jags. 

Heck, we even wrote a song about it, which we sing whenever a wave of this unexplained emotion bowls us over like a tsunami. And here’s how it goes (oh and, imagine it sung by some Valkyrie in a Wagnerian Opera).

Inexplicable Discomfiture!

That is what I suffer from!

It is not a pretty picture!

Inexplicable, Inexplicable, Inexplicaaaaaable Discomfiture!

So there you have it. You may not know what causes it or why it happens… but at least now you have a term for it.  “What’s wrong?” “Inexplicable discomfiture.” ‘Nuf said.