It's that time of the month when my miffed womb decides to destroy me by shedding the lining of my uterus just for choosing not to impregnate myself (how patriarchal).
Every other part of my life, of course, is also affected by my womanly time. Yesterday I went out of my way to compliment a complete stranger yet also almost exploded because a classmate was taking notes on my presentation in class. To top it all off, I feel like a bloated hideous creature that crawled out of the depths of the sewers that responds only in growls and snarls.
Yes, I feel like Pennywise the Dancing Clown. Except I won't bite a little kid's arm off at the shoulder blade. Probably. Maybe.
So here it is, a letter to my menstrual cycle:
Dear period,
I felt so cute yesterday in my bodycon sundress and brand-new Pink panties but of course, you had to shit on it all. Thanks for making me almost collapse in the Melville library and yell at my boyfriend for pretty much no reason at all. I also really love feeling as if Satan is clawing his way through my uterus while simultaneously inflating to the size of a balloon. I feel like I'm starring in the sequel to the 1979 Alien.
Thank you for fluctuating my mood so randomly that I laughed and cried in the span of five minutes. The only good thing you've ever done for me was boosting my boobs up a cup size, but of course, they feel like leaden weights on my chest and are highly sensitive to the touch so, thanks for nothing, I guess. All I want to do now is watch low-budget horror movies and listen to music I haven't liked since I was in middle school.
So here's to you, period. Thank you for making me long for menopause so I don't have to put up with this anymore.
Sincerely,
