My period is the one that's going to do the
planet in. For real. I would probably get arrested if I had to measure my monthly carbon footprint within those 5 days. Or lynched. Or worse.
I've got several reproductive health
issues that make me a walking, breathing blood fountain. Chief amongst them are the fibroids that make
my lower abdomen look like a distended avocado (I swear, it's not a food baby
or beer belly). So, when that time of the month rolls around, all hell
practically breaks lose. There are the crazy mood swings, then the period pains
that hurt like a b*#$. And don't even talk about the ovulation pains (yup, good
things happen in twos on this sorry side of the street). Now, the blood flow,
though, that's on a whole new level, even with chugging tranexamic acid like a
junkie.
My life sometimes feels like a really, really
crappy slasher movie. My bathroom has had blood splatters in the most
ridiculous of places. I mean, how on earth did blood get on the ceiling! It's not like I was doing a headstand in the tub while simultaneously doing a vagina fart! Better get Gibbs out of retirement to figure that one out.
🤷♀️
Auntie Flo and I have this hilarious game
where we see how fast I can run to the bathroom right after being startled
awake by the feeling at all hours of the night. Let me try to explain
the game. It doesn’t matter if I’ve only just conked out or if I’m wearing
Always’ biggest woman-nappy, when the game starts, all bets are off. I usually
just start awake with this feeling that something is terribly wrong. Then, in a split second, my sleep-muddled mind clears, and I roll out of bed with my legs clenched together and hobble-run to the bathroom as fast as I can because the tap has gone from zero to 120 in the space of seconds. To me, it feels more
like getting kicked out of bed. Nothing is sacred in this kooky game. Not my
mattress. Not my sheets or even the carpet. Definitely not my sanity! One time,
I started awake and was so absolutely sure that Jack the Ripper had come back
to life, and I’d been his latest victim! I’d woken up drenched in blood, and it
took more than a few moments for my brain to kick into gear. I should seriously
consider sleeping in the bathtub during Auntie Flo’s visits. Let's just say
that my mattress is never going to Goodwill. The landfill sef would probably
reject it if it could talk.
I keep doing load after load of laundry. I
just keep washing, and showering, and scrubbing, and rinsing, and wiping, over
and over, in this never-ending cycle. Let's not talk about my water and heating
bills during those 5 critical days. Let's not talk about the gallons and
gallons of water that just keep flowing down the drain in that disgusting, dirty
brown colour. Let's not talk about the amount of bleach that goes down with it.
Let's forget the laundry soap and body wash, too. Best not to ponder those
things too deeply.
Then, there's the smell, dear Lord!
Maybe it's the fact that after the first couple of days, almost every fabric in
my apartment (and my car) has gone through the red sprinkler at least once, and
my mind starts to amplify the smell, but Lawd, that smell! I've had one
woman claim that her red BFF smells like fresh blood. Probably just a heap of porky
tales (she was, after all, smiling like a contestant at a Southern Belle beauty
pageant while delivering that line. All that was missing was the wave 🙄). I don't think I've met anyone, porky tales
or not, who complains about the smell that much, and I've started to wonder if
I'm just one heck of a lucky gal or if, like me, everyone else is too
embarrassed (or more likely shocked into silence by the ghastliness of it) to
talk about it. Even just thinking about it now is making me gag!
You know, these re-useable cloth pads seem to
be the rage now, and I’m sure the environmentalists in the house would be
giving me side-eye and telling me that considering the number of sanitary
products I blitz through each month, I should switch to re-useables and save
some space in the landfills for other (more important) things. Maybe save me
some money, too. Question: Do you think I want to be faced with a drawer full of that cloying, retch-inducing after-wash metallic smell for the remaining three
weeks of my red-free month?! Maybe the real question is if I can survive
having that smell waft out of my drawers all month long! The thought of it
alone makes me want to sign up for a total hysterectomy! Believe me, Febreze and
Lenore are no match for that smell. I just know I would lose my sanity. So, as
much as I would love to do my bit in saving the planet, I CAN’T do reusable. I
just can’t!
I hardly ever write about Auntie Flo, but when
I do, it seems it’s always just to moan and rant and feel sorry for myself! However,
on this seemingly innocuous Sunday morning when Auntie Flo decided it was time
to play our wacky game again, and I found myself considering my vagina's Picasso
abilities again with a blanket clutched between my legs like a woman-nappy, I
had this serene moment where I knew I would be okay; everything is going to
be okay...January 30, 2022
