I want so badly to cry right now but I can’t seem to do it. I have been on the verge of tears for like three hours.
I want to feel better in the morning, but I don’t think I will.
Uterus? Is that you?!
The Treaty of Crazy
Sometimes, when I’ve been awake since 6 AM and can’t go back to sleep because I’m in too much pain, I write letters to my uterus. This is the best one yet.
This is an abusive relationship, and it needs to stop. I am tired of begging to you and praying to you every month to grant me some relief from a misery that you have brought upon me in the first place. I am tired of being punished for not giving you a baby. I am tired of the way you wreak havoc on my digestive system, on my emotions, on my appetite, on my sleep schedule, on the pain centers in my brain.
I know you want a child. I know that’s all you’re there for, the only purpose you have in life, and I am genuinely sorry to hold you back from fulfilling it. But there is more to raising a child than just incubating it, uterus. You don’t understand all of the other things that go along with it. You’re just like the Republicans, uterus. I’m sorry to go there with you, I know it’s a touchy subject, but I gotta call it like I see it and as far as I can tell, you’re not gonna be there to help raise and support this baby you so desperately want me to have, so will you kindly stop disregarding my feelings and my right to choose not to house a tenant inside of you just yet?
I’m onto you, uterus. This isn’t a joke. All of my reliable internet sources such as WebMD and Yahoo! (the ! is key) Answers have confirmed the following about your monthly tools of torture: Menstrual cramps usually become less painful as a woman ages and may stop entirely after the woman has a baby. OH SHIT, GAMECHANGER. You thought I didn’t know that, didn’t you? Your game is transparent as hell. So how many babies do you want, uterus? How many do I have to let you create before you’ll leave me alone about it? Just one? Listen, if I promise right now that I will DEFINITELY give you at least one baby and probably two and maybe even more will you please stop throwing this tantrum and learn a little virtue called patience?
I used to be just like you, uterus. I threw fits to get my way too. I even used to kick my mom when she would try to carry me outside of a public place like a restaurant or grocery store where I had thrown myself on the floor and proceeded to scream my face off for no good fucking reason. So I understand your instinct to just kick and kick at me until I give you what you want, but we all have to grow up sometime and trust that we don’t always know what’s best for us. Sometimes it is right for our caretakers to distinguish between what we want for a good reason and what we want for no good reason at all. You want a baby because that’s what you’re there for. I guess my lungs would start to burn and torture me too if I didn’t give them any air, and my heart would totally freak the fuck out if I didn’t give it any blood. So you’re just trying to ask for equal attention. But one day you’re just going to have to accept that your function is not vital to my survival, and that if I in fact gave you a zygote every time you got ready to make it into a baby, I would have like 150 babies by now (I am really good at math and science), and that wouldn’t be good for anyone except maybe a producer for a reality television show. Is that who you’re working for, uterus? Is that the scheme?
Oh, wait, this is because of that bitch Eve, isn’t it? Fuck, uterus, don’t you know better than to believe everything you read? Look, if you believe in creationism so strongly, then you might as well go sell yourself into uterus slavery, because that’s what those nutjobs want out of you anyway. I will give you to a man and he will decide what’s best for you from here on out, since men obviously know better than I do about that kind of thing anyway. Just ask your Bible that you seem to have such a hard-on for, I mean geez.
At the very, very least, can we at least cut a deal that you’ll leave my intestines alone? They don’t deserve this, and they don’t need your evil chemicals that induce contractions. They work just fine without those, thanks. I mean, what is it with you? It’s not enough that you take away all of my comfort and my sex life, now you have to turn my very NOURISHMENT (and especially the spicy foods that I love so much) into internal weapons of mass destruction too? Fuck you, uterus. Fuck. You.
Feel free to avert your eyes from the following TMI
I HATE IT WHEN I ACTUALLY HAVE PMS I WOULD LIKE TO STOP CRYING ABOUT EVERYTHING NOW THANKS FUCK YOU VERY MUCH HORMONES UGH
like seriously I just cried about John saying I was beautiful because I couldn’t figure out if he was kidding or not in light of the preceding conversation
I mean he’s told me I’m beautiful like 427 times before this and meant it so I don’t know why I am being weird about it
BUT PMS AND FEELINGS AND ALL I WANT IS A CAT TO CUDDLE AND A MASSIVE BOWL OF ICE CREAM
MY ENTIRE LIFE UPSETS ME RIGHT NOW
There’s period talk and it reminded me of something hilarious.
Some years ago, my best friend had a boyfriend, who seriously thought that all women on this planet have their periods at the same time, when it’s full moon.
Dude was 24 at the time.
And this is why boys are funny.
Real question from my boyfriend: “How do you know when you’re done?”
BECAUSE YOU STOP BLEEDING. Oh man, I’m not sure I could talk to, much less date, someone who felt the need to ask that…
You know when you’re done when there’s a clap of thunder and you come to.
I always get “Did you know X, Y, or Z happens when you’re on your period?!” by men in my life who just found out. I’ve had three separate boyfriend’s tell me, “Did you know that you’re not actually bleeding?” (As in cut yourself bleeding, not uterine lining.)
Yeah, dude. As it happens to me, I’m aware of most things involving my period.
A friend tried to tell me once that there was no blood actually involved because you’re not actually bleeding, it’s the uterine lining, and I stared at him and was like, “Uh, bro, the uterine lining is full of blood vessels prepping for baby town, so yes, there’s blood involved”. I had to go through this with him a few times because he was so adamant.
Poor confused fuck. I think he got it when I told him that my best friend in high school once got a period so heavy and so bad (we’re talking bleeding through pads, tampons, sheets, in a manner of an hour or two over the course of a weekend) that she got anemia and had to take iron supplements.
Boys ask some of the silliest questions about it that to girls are usually like common sense. Like the “there’s no actual blood!” thing. Heard it before. Pretty sure by the fact that it looks like the lower half of me was involved in a massacre THAT THERE IS ACTUAL BLOOD. That and having been anemic like four times.