4. DAY 6
Periods are a brutal mess.
They’re one of the few things these days that reminds me I’m a lassie and that I actually have a bloody baby carrying sac.
I also happen to be one of those lucky females that should be medically isolated on the first 3 days of my menses in foetal position yelling out some ancient Mayan chants in the process.
That’s because I have this condition called ‘menorrhagia’ that renders me useless physically and mentally. The condition even has an ugly ring to it so you can imagine the cramps that come with it.
But instead, I, like every other woman who should be confined to a wheelchair or something, are walking, talking mobile blood donor centres with a Whisper pad stuck up our drainage systems.
Unless you prefer the unusual types as seen here…
A friend recently pointed out how we’ve taken periods for granted. “I mean,” she says “I’m fuckin’ bleeding, for gods sakes! I should be a medical casualty but here I am, talking to you.”
As if your blood flow cares right?
However, the worse part of having a period, at least for me, is right about Day 5 or 6, when I start feeling horny, right in the midst of that war zone that’s happening down south.
I mean, geez! I’ve got dead bodies bleeding and stacking up like crazy and here I am feeling all couch potato ‘ga-ding-ding-dong’.
I mean WTF is that all about?!
All I can say is that our creator must’ve been one heckuva ladies man or lusting lesbian to find the sexiness within all that gunk.
Day 6 is a tough one, I can tell ya.
It’s the storm before the calm sets in on Day 7 when all of a sudden, the fertility generals and their men cut their haemoglobin losses, recoup and retreat for the next 28 days making plans for the next battle in a war that will never end until I hit menopause.
After that, I wonder where they go for the rest of my life….