This here is not a post for my man readers who need to immediately turn around and get on out of here. I am going to do something I have yet to do here at the108, incredulously, as I was not aware that there may be a topic I haven’t covered.
I wish to bitch about my period.
I’ve never done this before and the situation is certainly calling for it. Usually, no topic is safe which many of you know after I posted graphic photos of me giving birth and a particularly ginormous close up of Emi’s placenta. Yet, the period has always remained a sort of sacred subject, one that makes men go, “ewwwww” and so I have avoided it for the most part. Today, I take my woman-ness back!
Ladies (and men who are reading for the sheer horror if it)…. I’m dying here. I used to be a nice, normal person who bleeds out of her vagina but ever since having my tubes tied it is like a massacre taking place between my legs. In the past, I was very normal when it came to my womanly issues, but now I am in so much dispair that I damn near cannot handle it.
I’m in pain. I have gained about ten pounds in water alone. It hurts to move and it hurts to not move. And to top it off, I’m bleeding like a gutted deer hanging from a tree.
I’m proud to say that I’m not typically an emotional basket case during my visits with Aunt Flo. I’m not so much a bitch, either.
Boy, do I want to kick a few asses. I feel miserable. Wanna know just how miserable I am? Ever since getting my fucking tubes tied, I’m in period hell.
My cramps are so bad that I vomit. I’m nauseus allll the time. I can’t deal with it. To top it off, I’m bleeding so badly that I’m dizzy from blood loss. I’m pale and sick and lightheaded. I can’t leave my house because that would just be asking for one of those embarrassing moments when you know you have just bled all over your fucking self.
Seriously… I feel like a gunshot victim who has been left to bleed to death for a week. Surely, I cannot survive this. It’s too much. I am not normally one to cuss out my family members when on my period and I’m not usually one to cry.Today, I am rotating out on cursing everyone and sobbing uncontrollably and I think it is out of sheer frustration more than it is hormones.
I feel bad for cursing out Dean except that I don’t. I’ll feel bad later, but right now I want to scratch his fucking eyes out for no reason. Maybe it is the fact that I’m dying. I don’t want to be that shrewish bitch who is evil to her loved ones when she is dying and so I feel I must try to redirect my wrath and hatred towards someone else. I have written an open letter to my uterus.
You have always been pretty good to me in the past. You carried four amazing children and kept them safe until they could be squeezed right the fuck out of you and into the world. Prior to this, you were always even tempered and gave me nothing to bitch about. But things seem to have changed between us. Something has happened and you just don’t seem like your old self any more. In fact, I can no longer even tolerate you and it is because of this that I feel compelled to ask:
What the fuck, dude?
What did I ever do to YOU??? Why you gotta be a player hater? I have always treated you with the utmost respect and now you go off being a bitch and causing me severe distress.
What did I do to piss you off so badly?
I used to have nothing but fondness for you but now I fucking hate you. I want to reach up inside of my vagina and rip you right out and then stomp all over you until you are nothing but a squishy, bloody mess on the cement. You, ma’am, can kiss my fucking ass.
It is people like you that give women a bad name. When you cause us pain, we become bitches and then men get annoyed with us. Fuck you for that. I am usually a nice person but, because of you, I am being an intolerable shrew to everyone around me. You’re a bitch.
Are you trying to kill me? Have you lost your goddamned mind?
I hate you. In fact, I friggin’ loathe you. I have half a mind to just go right on up to the doctor and demand a hysterectomy just so that I can be rid of you for good. Fuck you!
I wash my hands of you, Uterus. And until I am able to be physically rid of you, I shall ingest enough booze and painkillers so that I am oblivious to your presence.
Good day to you, bitch.
I feel much better.