Monday, August 8, 2011

End of sentence

Gentlemen, you're going to want to look away, this is going to get graphically girlie in a hurry. (Wait, do men read this?!) Girls, this is a post for you and me. I hate my period. Hate it. Granted, I have mine right now, so my normal outrage at this physiological process is escalated by hormone-fueled fury, but nonetheless: I HATE IT.

First, let me just repeat some old news for you. 10,000 years ago, when Neanderthals and Homo Sapiens were roaming around the Earth looking for their next Woolly Mammoth dinner, and cave women had their periods, what did they do about it? About the same thing that we are doing now. We, literally, use a product that has the French name for rag. Using a French name escalates a lot of things, foie gras is way better than liver, menage a trois is classier than threesome, but a rag by any other name is still a rag. Of course, now we poison our rags with bleach and acetone and use all sorts of synthetic materials, but it's still the same old cork and string.

We have very advanced pharmaceutical treatments for all kinds of "ills"--from male pattern baldness to erectile dysfunction, which apparently have the intended goal of enhancing sexual experience. My sexual experience might be enhanced if, through some modern miracle, I didn't have to hate my reproductive system every 27.5 days. I would even be okay with a bald, impotent guy if I didn't have to 'visit with my cousin' every month.

I begrudge every purchase of feminine hygiene products. I especially begrudge the fact that said products are usually in the same aisle as 1. diapers 2. condoms 3. pregnancy tests. Here's why this bothers me--diapers and feminine products? Is it because babies and women have waste that can't be controlled by regular underwear? But the old people underwear is someplace else entirely. Is it because all women have babies? Is it a guilt trip for fertile women who don't have babies? What's that about? I suspect something deeply subversive. 2. Condoms? Who wants to think about condoms when they are stocking up the period pantry? 3. Pregnancy tests? For those women who weren't buying tampons, but were too dumb to buy condoms? Is this the one-stop sex aisle? Then why would I want to trot my BABY through this aisle to buy diapers?! None of this makes sense.

I resent how much hygiene products cost. And that I have to buy the industrial size ones. I swear the ultra-super-mega products were used to soak up the BP spill. And those are still ineffective for my needs. There are all these earth-friendly, body-friendly alternatives. Don't think that this offsets my first complaint about there being no advances in this area of medicine. These are not advances, but rather primitive and (in my opinion) fouler methods to deal with the problem.

So, now I've spent my money on my absorb-an-ocean products, and then I'm subject to the irrational, unavoidable, intense hormonal rage that accompanies the physical bliss of cramping, backaches and some sort of weird, vague nausea. My family can tell you that I'm a werewolf. Synced with the phases of the moon, I monthly transform into a vile, uncontrollable beast. There's snarling and growling, and it's not a pretty sight.

Now, I'm mean and spending money on products and then the piece de resistance (another thing that sounds better in French): the 5 pound bloat. All my favorite clothes are tight and unflattering. My boobs hurt and are pinched in my bra. Jeans give way to sweats. Tees give way to M's tees. And, the aforementioned mood issues really make me able to cope with the body transformation very well.

In the end, I wind up feeling like the mean, evil brother of the Kool-Aid guy. All stomping around, and fat, and breaking walls and yelling at kids. And, in another 29 days, I get to do it all again. I CAN'T WAIT!





1 comment:

  1. I wonder if you'll "enjoy" the M word. I can't say that it bothered me too much. I was just so pleased to be getting rid of the monthly madness that I totally embraced menopause. I love the way you have described this monthly torture in your own inimitable style. Be brave and strong, girrrl. As certain people are so fond of saying: It could be worse!!

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