My girl Missy coined that phrase years ago. Still makes me giggle, but giggling is currently impossible.
So is everything else. I have gone full white girl and cannot even.
I can’t leave the house. I’m too scared I’m going to bleed all over myself and it is blatantly apparent that I’ve been bawling most of the day, either from actual physical pain or period mind tricks.
I’m also in too much pain to dress myself and walk anywhere. Plus I have a raging headache, which should be impossible considering I have taken enough pain meds to soothe Keith Richards into a napping state or knock a horse out for a few.
I am a fucking monster right now.
I have to go out to get food that I won’t want by the time I get it home and/or will throw up the second the next wave of cramps hit.
I have become a toxic, red puddle.
Are you there god? It’s me Sarah. {1}
He didn’t listen to Margaret, don’t know why I think he might answer my plea.
All telephones to god are currently down.
I remember reading that book when I was a kid and thinking I really wanted my period too, and boobs and boys and to be grown up.
I liked boys. Still do. The boob situation is a joke, adulting is hard and fuck my fucking period.
All a bunch of fucking dummies us public school girls.
If my clit is Satan’s door bell, that makes my uterus… one of the levels of hell. Yep, there it is.
And my vagina is a gateway.
The second my back cramps ease up the full frontal aches begin and I am about to get horny as…Satan I guess.
Where’s the devil when you need him? Or a non squeamish minion. Or one of my lost boys. Somebody come rub my back and tell me I’m pretty right now so I can cry about it. Bring chocolate. No chips. no chocolate, no chips. I want bacon, but the poor pigs…
fuck.
Jesus wept this hurts and sucks and really puts a crimp in everything ever.
I currently feel like I’m being sawed in half, without anesthesia and the saw is rusty. And the bad guy from Temple of Doom is really interested in my ovaries and is trying to take them out with some black Kali Ma magicks through the small of my back. Alternately the thing in Alien that burst through the guy’s stomach is feeling lazy and just trying to chew slowly through the back up my pelvis.
I don’t want anything touching my skin but I need to be held right now.
My comfy position is head down between my wide spread knees with an ice pack on the small of my back.
I am ultra-mega-super lonely.
Consider this the cramp that brought me to my knees, I am losing my religion. {2}
I have had cramps so bad I burst into tears and/or I fall to my knees. But only 3-6 times a year.
The other 6-9 times aren’t a cakewalk either.
And Now I want fucking cake.
This shit isn’t funny anymore.
I think that god’s got a sick sense of humor, and when I die I expect to find him laughing. {3)
For a month or two after the decade of uptight sexless British boyfriends in their late 40’s I actually almost tripped and fell into perimenopause. Started fucking young uns and cleared that shit right up, that one hot flash and a few skipped periods worried me something awful. Had to message my slightly older girlfriends and figure out why exactly I had a small nuclear reactor in my gut.
For someone who has a sex drive as high as mine, I lose a calendar week of sexy funtimes every month due to the prom scene from Carrie in my pants. I have yet to find myself a vampire, I would even take one with sparkles and a stalking problem at this point. Drink me dry but rub my back after mmm’kay? And please fuck the shit out of me right after we fight and then immediately snuggle me while I cry and then laugh at myself for crying.
Demonic possession seems like a lighter, more fun alternative than the shit happening in my brain/body right now.
The 2 days before my period? Fuggadaboudit, total write off. I am a crazy person. My eyes leak, the world is ending and everyone hates me. Me most of all. And I am really hungry for all the things that are not in my house but I am too tired to leave.
I haven’t told the new one about any of this. He took himself a walkabout the last 72 hours or so and course I cried about it, even though it was probably a good thing. Managed to maintain a reasonable level of crazy, told him yesterday was not the day for teasing. He leaves for vacation before this curse lifts, but my mouth still works just fine.
Que cera cera, any other day I could shake it off except right now, the damned sky is falling and I’m going to be alone forever.
And what do I get for this sacrifice to the blood gods?
Not a thing.
I can’t have babies anymore. I can get pregnant just fine but I can’t hold them in as long as they need to be held. Busted oven. I’ve made peace with this. I rolled the genetic dice once and won with my son.
My girl is getting her uterus removed, she has estrogen fueled malignant tumors in her breasts. And a doctor that dropped the ball so it happened a second time. She wants more babies. I gave up that dream years ago. Take mine and not hers? Please. Can we do this?
And if I only could
I’d make a deal with God
And I’d get him to swap our places. {4)
I don’t even want the thing. It hurts me, monthly.
It has cost me friends and lovers when I rage against my own crimson tide.
I have battled long and hard to not be a crazy emotional girl, to be a logical grown up and suddenly I’m fully fucking stupid. A pouty crying mess over nothing. God forbid I should spill literal milk, the end is nigh.
Uterus makes preparations for baby.
Woman doesn’t give it a baby.
Uterus throws massive temper tantrum.
I know I will be fine in a few days but for now I am locked into an 8/10 on the pain scale and I can’t handle a damned thing.
{1} Judy Blume
{2} REM
{3} Depeche Mode
{4} Kate Bush
