This might just get me sporked by many women all over the planet- but when it comes to “period problems”– I did not draw the short stick. Not when I was younger, anyways.
I didn’t start early, only once in my entire life have I had an “embarrassing bleed through” situation that had to be handled immediately or it would forever scar my reputation (and even that was mild compared to the poor soul who started her period in the middle of class wearing white shorts). I never had the week of outrageous mood swings leading up to the floodgates of hell opening up; for the first ten years I didn’t even get bloated, and the cramps weren’t anything to call in sick to school over.
Yes, I hate young me too.
Of course, that “bliss” (although I would argue that bleeding from your nethers regardless of severity of pain is the opposite of bliss, but I digress) did not last long.
As the years wore on, Aunt Flo began living up to her title of “Fucking Bitch”– but only once she actually tore my insides out through my vagina.
Now, i’m not sure if it was pure luck, or some unholy bond with my ovaries that I was unaware of at such a naive age- but the only PMS symptom I had for a long time was itchy tits. Yes, I said itchy tits. Like so itchy I wanted to tear those bitches off- and that’s saying a lot since it took me so long to grow ANYTHING above an A cup that I treasured those stupid things.
Even though my periods rivaled the battlefields of World War II, PMS was always a non-factor for me. Good and bad, since PMS blows donkey dick, but it does alert you to the eruption of your lady bits- something that has been wonky since day one. Never once have I known when Flo is actually going to strike- so her arrival is always a surprise. Even with that stupid app I downloaded to keep the “OMFG AM I PREGNANT??” panic at bay every.single.month.
Still, even with that thing “tracking” my cycles- each month i’ve had it, it has been wrong. WRONG I SAY. This ruined Valentine’s Day sex, and has been the cause of at least one freak out, because I had absolutely nothing else to rely on to tell me when the bitch was going to show up on my doorstep with her suitcase of tricks.
That is… until this month.
For the first time in my entire life, minus the indication of itchy tit (which faded over time)- I could hear Aunt Flo and her giant red heels full of shit trudging up to my house- ready to dropkick down my uterine wall.
I was angry, moody, evil, cramps from hell which caused some of the worst back and neck pain to date, and a level of stabby I had never quite reached before. Everything the kids did drove me insane, everything Thomas said gave me a severe case of the dickpunchies, and the dog? Fuck that dog!
I knew- either my period is coming down the pipes in a way unlike it ever has before- or i’m dying of some kind of infectious disease that when I perish they will just refer to as “cunt.”
Lucky for me, the former was true and not the latter.
Now, if you’ve been hanging around this blog for long enough- you know my feelings on the paranormal, ghosts, etc. If not, here’s a quick crash course: Yes, I believe in ghosts. I not only believe that they exist, but that I have been “haunted” so to speak, by them for my entire life. One of my first memories is of a ghost haunting my bedroom at night. I have SO many experiences, in fact, that my next book (if I ever get off my ass and continue to work on it) will be solely about those experiences. Since moving into this house, weird shit has happened on a regular basis. Footsteps, writing in the carpet, voices, etc. Most weirdness around here I just chalk up to that.
So when I refer to “magical” powers that my uterus might have- no, I am not referring to the creation of new life. Do you know me at all??
Back to where i’m going with all of this: My first day of this lovely period of mine was the angriest I have been… maybe ever. That whole week of super-stabby culminated in me stomping around like a 5 year old with a temper tantrum and NOTHING was going my way. I felt ready to explode. If selling children didn’t get me jail time, I may have actually listed them online. All those threats to get smothery with a pillow? Temptation may have been too strong to resist.
Let’s just say I was an absolute grade A bitch and EVERYONE should have steered clear. I don’t usually feel sorry for Thomas, but sweet jesus- that poor man.
The unthinkable happened- we made it to nap time with no injuries. I considered this a victory. I attempted to relax, but sometimes idiocy on the internet and the frustrations of the day begin to boil over once everything finally goes silent.
Out of the corner of my eye- I catch the boys’ toy airplane (a rather large airplane) which is sitting on the floor halfway across the living room flip right over. I figure one of the kids is up, or the dog has lost his damn mind trying to ruin the peace naptime has brought upon the house- so I jump off of the couch, prepared for battle.
Only… no one was there. One kid upstairs, asleep. One kid on the couch, asleep. One puppy in the bathroom behind the toilet passed the fuck out. NO ONE touched that airplane.
Now, generally.. I would chalk this up to paranormal happenings. Those fucking ghosts AGAIN! I swore one more wacky ass thing went down and i’d be contacting professionals (who ya gonna call??)… but then I sat down to think about it.
My uterus was being more evil than it had ever been in my entire 28 years on this planet. My uterus has accomplished mystifying feats before (ie: pregnant with no sex while on period, being months late and deciding to start right AFTER I paid for the prescription to kick start it, etc)..
COULD it be possible for a uterus to be so evil, so powerful… that it becomes telekinetic?? A SUPERNATURAL UTERUS?!?!
Have you ever met my uterus? No? Well, consider yourself fucking LUCKY. Had you actually met this dark creation- you might also agree that deep within its evil confines it holds the secret of life and the location of the lost city of Atlantis. It also may or may not know whether there is actually gold in Fort Knox. And i’d be willing to bet money that it is plotting my demise with each menstrual cycle that passes.
I think next time Aunt Flo comes trudging her shitty shoes up to my door… i’m doing to drug my uterus into submission before I start blowing fuses and levitating and projectile vomiting pea soup.
It’s for the good of the world, people. The good of the WORLD.
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