There are some people who are grossed out when I talk about menstruation. Those people usually have penises. It’s not that I think the female reproductive system is a beautiful thing, I’m really just looking for any and every opportunity to commiserate with my fellow egg baskets over our monthly massacres.
This morning I woke up with a week early monthly guest and a horrible nosebleed. I just tilted my head back, looked to the heavens and let everything just flow south. The only plus side to this unexpected horror, was that my best friend and I have synched our cycles, which I’m hoping means we can FINALLY fight crime and make others shed blood instead of shedding our own.
The whole thing seems very Wiccan to me. I kind of dig it.
Until then, I’ll be sitting in pajama pants, clutching my pooch, waiting the week out so I can stop crying randomly at anything and everything.
What makes me cry during my period?
Day 1: Getting my period
*Tears of Joy*
Day 2: Catching a glimpse of my bloated self in the mirror and wondering, “Hmm, this is what I would look like at 4 months pregnant.” Then hyperventilating because you can’t imagine yourself ever being ready for motherhood
Day 2: Afternoon
Crying because you’re worried, that if you ultimately do want kids, what if you later discover you’re infertile, and then you’ve just got your period to waste tampons and good underpants on a monthly reminder of what you can’t have.
Day 2: Evening
Crying because you’ll get to adopt a kid and keep shit right down there.
*Tears of joy*
Day 3: Watching old Hollywood movies and crying because everyone in the movie is probably dead
Day 4: Checking online dating profiles and crying because you’re online dating
Day 4: 10 mins later
Crying because you’re worried nobody will love the guys you’re swiping left to. SOMEONE SHOULD LOVE THEM!
(Just not me. Never me)
Day 5: Seeing an old person take their dog on a walk. The dog’s wearing a coat and little booties.
Day 6: Adele.
Happily skipping out the door without a feminine product only to find that your body is a traitor and released a last wave of assault to remind you that you should never, ever, think you understand your body.
(Oh yes, Girls. Some of us are full week-ers)
Day 8: PTSD
You only have 21 days before you have to relive the carnage.
Brb. Gotta go eat some cookies.