🕸 (Sorry, it had to be done.)
Okay, *cracks knuckles* lets do this. The main thing that pisses me off is the question, 'Are you on your period or something?'
If your my dad, okay, I'll let you off 'cause your shy and naive in this area.
If your some guy I've just grumbled at, screw off okay, maybe I'm just in a bad mood, yeah?
If you're a girl, that's unexceptable, like, what, you just betrayed your own kind!
This is mainly targeted towards men as they seriously have no idea what pain we go though, no hard feelings though, okay? Let me take you through the day.
You wake up with an aching back, legs, stomach, (so pretty much everything that is capable of hurting is hurting.) 'Damn' you think, 'I must have slept bad last night.'
You get up, the awkward and kinda annoying feeling of 'holy crap I'm gonna piss myself' occurs and you rush to the toilet. You feel the sweet relief of peeing and then bam! It is no longer longer a toilet, but a friggin bowl of squashed fruit.
If it's warm you have to deal with sweaty pad syndrome and the constant worry that it's poking out from your underwear.
Crawling back into bed, the cravings start, 'I swear, if a large tub of chocolate ice-cream doesn't show up in the next five seconds...' You trail off, you couldn't have moved if the house was on fire. Well, maybe only if a king sized Snickers bar was the reward. (But that is another story.)
Finally deciding to get up, you stare at your wardrobe, shorts? Ha ha ha, no. Dress? Nup. Skirt? Nah. Leggings? Fat chance.
Worriedly you look in the mirror, 'I'm not fat am I?' You look yourself up and down, 'I'm fat!!!!' You feel like crying as your reflection seems to laugh at you, fatty. 'I need a diet. Yep, as of today, I am on a diet. Wait, what about my ice cream?!'
Forgetting getting dressed you climb back onto your bed to 'comfort' the ice cream.
The you feel it, that one dust particle that chose to go all divergent and tumble into your nose, you let out a sneeze and, 'Oh good mother of cheesecake!'
The frickin' Niagra Falls of blood is upon you. 'WHYYYYYYYYY???????' You scream as you curse your uterus that's gargling much louder that your screaming.
And this time, not even a marathon of all 237 episodes of Doctor Who or a whole Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory could fix it.
Flopping down on your bed for what seems like the millionth time already you are ready to rip off the heads of little girls who are readily anticipating their period, 'Yay!' You would exclaim as you stack up head after stupid head, 'I love smelling like something died and is rotting inside me.'
When it's time for bed, you have the overwhelming fear of the pad slipping so wedging a pillow between your legs, you try and calm the WWIII fighting in your stomach.
And after the seven days is up, Mother Nature packs up her bags and leaves calling, 'I enjoyed my stay, see you next time love! And remember, don't get pregnant!'
So bro, next time you go to ask me if I'm on my monthly, just be glad you don't have up to a cup full of blood leaving out of your vagina. 🕸
- R🕸se
