Ode to Being A Woman(not a rant, but almost)

I  “became a woman” the day that Bill Clinton was inaugurated into office.  So, next year, January 20^th 2014, I’m going to take my period out for a drink cause it will be legal—twenty one years old.  Yes, menstruation I’m not gonna saddle you with some nice fruity drink, oh no, you shall imbibe something smooth but strong.  A nice whiskey aged to perfection that will be like”sucking nectar through a hangman’s noose”(thanks Posh Nosh ).  Because you, my period, you’ve taken up so much of my life, you given me joy(when you came on time) and sorrow(when you were late), pain and mass amounts of awkward situations.  Because, period you deserve a strong, stiff one after twenty-one years. We've been through a helluva lot ole girl.

I am not afraid of the truth that is my menstrual period.

I wish more people talked about periods.  We talk about other gross bodily functions such as farting, sharting, shitting or jizzing. Men(and women) are so afraid to talk about menstruation.  Like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world, heck it kind of is.  You know what’s gross?  Having a bear get into your garbage and strew your lawn with your used tampons.  Yeah, that’s gross.

So twenty-one years I’ve been dealing with this thing, that’s longer than some people who may read this have even been alive.  I’ve spent almost double the years of my life as a bleeder than as a non-bleeder.  I’ve got another twenty or so left no doubt. 

I wish that I could add up the energy I’ve expended either worrying about having my period, or NOT having my period.  The planning for it, the preparations, that sinking moment when you realize…there are no tampons in my purse!! And there is no tampon dispenser in the bathroom you happen to be standing.

The sports juggling, to swim or not to swim?  The sleepovers, the what if I bleed on someone else’s sheets?? The oh man, I’ve taken two Aleve and I’m still in pain.  Heating pads help, hot baths help…but not totally.

I have this theory that the United States of America will never elect a female president that hasn’t gone through the change or had a radical hysterectomy.  The USA does not want a bleeder running the country.

And it’s not even the bleeding that is the worst part, it’s the sore breasts, the crampy feeling, the fatigue, the incredible depression I-hate-myself-and-everyone-else feeling that is known as PMS.  Hormones are a killer. I’d say that I’ve got about two good weeks a month where I’m not worrying about the fact that I’m getting my period, or the fact that I’m not getting my period.

 I have even more awful stories, like when I tried to use some type of menstrual cup which collects the blood.  How I ended up not doing it right and walked out of stall, my hands covered in blood, and other women in the bathroom looking at me like I just committed murder. Yeah there’s that.  Or waking up at three AM realizing, no you haven’t pissed yourself, you’ve just bled over your entire bed.   Also don’t be stupid like me and fly on an airplane while forgetting to bring tampons with you to discover, oops Aunt Flo came early!  Airplane toilets are not menstrual friendly, just sayin.

            So cheers to you menstruation you sly, crafty, beast making my life a living hell for almost twenty-one years.