Okay, so while I am well aware that one of the many tasks charged upon the women of the world is to serve as the carriers of future people, I’m really over this whole menstrual thing. In the days leading up to my period, I have cramping, headaches, back pains and crankiness. And if that wasn’t enough, I then have six to seven days of the same (but worse) PLUS bleeding. That’s over a week. Every month. That’s more than TWENTY FIVE PERCENT OF MY ENTIRE LIFE SPENT SUFFERING.

It’s not fair. It’s not.

Bad periods should go to people who deserve them. There should be, like, some sort of ‘period lite’  for those of us who are good people and who are sweet and do things like volunteer work and adopting kittens.

Also, it is not fair that men are exempt. All the hormones and stuff they put in the food we eat, slip something in there so that men can experience this, too.

Back to the whole baby thing…I’m only going to make 2, 3 of them tops. Why do I have to shed 50,000 million trillion eggs to get ready for that? Seems mighty wasteful. Waste not, want not. I want not a period.

I know that there’s Seasonale, the oral contraceptive that allows you to have 4 periods a year. But birth control makes me gain weight. I can’t risk that.

SPEAKING OF, how about this whole retaining water thing? Once a month, I’m secretly harvesting two gallons of Poland Spring in my ovaries apparently. My clothes look crazy, I feel like a whale. The only good thing is when its over and I realize that my period-sad cravings didn’t actually cause me to gain four pounds.

SPEAKING OF, why does chocolate dry my period tears so well? And why does that mental filter that says “No, Jamilah, we can’t have a brownie for breakfast” shut down during period days 1-3 and get replaced by “We will (sob) be so happy (sob) if we could just have (sob) some chocolate!”?

SPEAKING OF, I’m sick of crying and sh*t over nothing. A few months back, I was cooking with Newman’s Own pasta sauce and I thought to myself how wonderful it was of the actor to start a non-profit company and what a great man he must have been. Next thing you know, I was shedding tears for the homie Paul Newman and hoping that my grandmother was macking on him in heaven.

It has to stop. They can put a man on the moon, but they haven’t found a cure for period symptoms yet? That’s misogyny at it’s most stringent levels. I bet there is some scientist sitting on a cure, but The Man is preventing her from releasing it purely out of spite. Le sigh.

Now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go look at pictures of babies and weep silently.

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