Where’s My Paper Chain?

This post is about periods, so here’s your first and only warning.

When does menopause happen? Like when, though? Seriously. First one was at 11, and I just turned 43. Since mine are closer together than they’re supposed to be, I’m guessing I’ve had around 450+ periods by now, and I’m done. I’m just effing done.

I hate them. I hate you. I hate everything. I hate being a girl. I hate cramps. I hate period-induced IBS. I hate bloating. I hate feeling as if I have never slept ever in my life yet. I hate men for not having them and for generally just existing. I hate everyone who doesn’t have a period. I hate everyone who has a period and doesn’t have cramps.

I hate being overheated and starving like every meal is Chinese takeout because I’m hungry every hour on the hour like clockwork. I hate the sound of people talking/breathing/chewing/existing and the sound of cars driving by and all of the music I didn’t pick. I hate the way people park and walk and ride bikes in the road while I’m driving on it.

I hate tampons and pads and bleeding for 3-5 days and then followed by one day of nothing so I think it’s over and then Mother Nature is a shady bitch and decides to wring out my uterus one last time but not enough for any sanitary products after that, so then you have the dry tampon scenario which is painful in an overzealous-gyno-with-a-speculum kind of way.

“A little closer to the edge, hon. A little more…” Bitch, you have no idea how close to the edge I am.

I digress…

My uterus has no purpose whatsoever. It never did. Why do I have to go through this? How many more? I am 43 now. I feel like I should get a countdown for my birthday. I want a construction paper chain for how many periods I have left before its all over and I can finally just not.

The pain is stupid. STUPID. Why? Why does it hurt like this? Oh, are we gonna talk about Eve? Okay, sure. The Bible said that she was going to have painful childbirth. NOT painful every month you aren’t about to give birth or every month you’re not pregnant or anything else. ChildBIRTH. Having your period is the OPPOSITE of giving birth. It is, by its very nature, the ABSENCE of even the possibility of a birth.

I want answers. And a paper chain.

My head hurts. I feel nauseated. My lower abdomen feels like someone has taken hold of my fallopian tubes and tied them into knots, and is pulling at each end. Then they’re kicking it, while sword-fighting with my ovaries. Meanwhile, my useless uterus is feeling stabby because its angry that for the 456th time, it doesn’t get to make a baby. So that sucker is tearing down the “inside nursery” like Mommy Dearest on a tangent.

My useless, angry uterus shall now and forever be known as Joan Crawford. The right ovary is pretty quiet, so that one’s gonna be Kristen Stewart – awkward, slightly difficult and wears a resting bitch face so she’s a little frightening. The left one is definitely 2007 Britney Spears. Crazy fits of rage are her legacy.

There. I just named my reproductive-less organs.

My ankles and feet are swollen. My tummy is bloated. My boobs hurt. I have to pee every five minutes, even when I don’t (it just feels like it, so it’s uncomfortable). I have the bad potties (you can figure that one out). My back hurts. I’m exhausted – and I mean full-on fatigue from head to toe. I can’t concentrate on anything and my memory sucks, along with my attitude.

I faked being human for work, but I’m home now and I hate everything.

How. Many. Are. Left.

That’s all I want to know.

I’ve done my time. I deserve to not feel this awful every damned month. Imagine (assuming you’re still reading and you’re a guy) that you’re knocked down with the flu for roughly 5 days every month. And also bleeding.

Every month.

The ONLY exception is if you’re growing a person – at the end of which, you have to push it out of THERE. And then you have to bleed for another month and a half… STRAIGHT.

So look, I’m just going to tell you right now that if I decide I hate your guts just because you have the ability to pee standing up, let it go, man. Just back away slowly. You laugh about it and get grossed out, but we have to deal with this shit every month for like 40 years. FORTY YEARS. You better suck it up and be sweet, because if God ever granted wishes, I’m betting the vast majority of women would wish this on you at least once.

You couldn’t handle this. Shut your face hole and go cut some construction paper into strips.