If you are easily disgusted, I suggest you turn back now. If you are a man, and you don't want to know, leave. If you're a woman who is in denial of what her body does...well, time to take off the rose colored glasses, sweetie.
I'm about to say the dirty p word. The word we gingerly step around in good or mixed company. The word some of us refuse to say to our husbands, until it doesn't happen and we flip out because we're late. Yes, I'm talking about the period.
It comes once a month to torment us. Every month, we curse that Eve bitch for biting into that apple and placing God's wrath right in our ovaries. Fuck you, Eve. Fuck you.
Every body is different, so we react to the period in different ways. I apparently fluctuate.
This month I was early by a week. Sucked, because my boyfriend was in town, and when I get on my period, I don't want him to fucking TOUCH me. Not even to hold my hand. I feel gross, disgusting and fat.
So here I am, bloated, craving chocolate and being fed alcohol, wishing he'd stop hugging me, and being worried because I'm lighter than I've ever been in my life. It turns out alright. Until two days later, when I wake up at 6.30 in the morning to find that my body has unleashed its fucking fury on me. The tampon I went to bed in wasn't enough, so I just pretty much wet my pants in blood. Nice.
So I change to a super tampon, to absorb all the blood I'm apparently gushing from between my legs. Half hour later, i'm back in the bathroom, this time to take a massive shit. Ok, so not only do I have to deal with blood, I have to plan for my body to have gas and the occasional poop attack.
Are you still reading? Damn, you're braver than I thought you'd be. I like you.
Anyway, since I'm a caffiene addict, I go ahead and reach for my morning cup of coffee. Doctor it with sugar and creamer, I'm good to go. This is not going to help me stop taking shits. In fact, it's making it worse.
Anybody else have this problem, or am I the one female on the planet who has no fucking control over anything her body does? Drop me a line. Send me booze. SOMETHING.
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2 comments:
*Hugs* You're not fat. You will live. Think of it this way -- this is nature's way of telling me I can still have children. I am ready to procreate. I am ALIVE.
You'd be surprised how much looking at things in a positive light helps my period.
Merc, you're amazing, and I love you so dearly.
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