So. I am a girl. I am a girl with working body parts and organs and whatnot, so I inevitably get the painters in during “that time of the month.” This is where all male readers will freak out and exit the page, am I right? It’s actually not that big of a deal – I have no problem discussing it, and without it no one would be born. And without baby humans, what would the world be? A lot less loud, probably, and eventually, once humans no longer existed, global warming would reverse itself and on and on and on. But enough of that.
I think someone is shoving a knife into my uterus. This is REALLY where the male readers exit the page. Sorry…but really. It hurts. No amount of midol/advil/ibuprofen/whatever will make it stop. I am practically curled into a ball as I write this and every once in a while I writhe in pain. Yes. I writhe. I have succumbed to the power of the period.
I am hormonal. I am the queen of the hormones. I am so emotional that if anyone speaks to me tonight I will probably erupt into tears. I am so hormonal that I am writing a post about my period on my public blog that people read, so apparently, I am so hormonal that my judgement is impared. Are hormones like vodka? Should I not drive?
My back hurts. My front hurts. My head hurts. I feel sensitive. Help.
I don’t even want children! What is the point of this? Is 17 too early for menopause?