I hate my period…

Sorry, boys. Look at this as insight, if you read it at all.

For the rest of us, it’s a sad state. I become this blubbering, emotionally overcharged asshole who can’t control her smartass reflex. And, believe you me, it’s a reflex, where I come from. Where once upon a time,  this Katherine Hepburn, Lauren Bacall brand of bitchy sat, my brain morphs into some random screaming whore from the Oxygen network. I turn into a crazy person and I have no idea why. I’ve always been a fairly rational human being and I find it a grand inconvenience to have my whims governed by forces of nature unbeknownst to me.

I’m a sane woman (especially, as women go) and then: BOOM: I’m posting crazy shit on facebook, crying for no reason, and salvaging bits of chocolate from my daughter’s Halloween stash. It’s just damn sad. I’ve deteriorated into the type of person who gets miffed at the smallest slight on my beliefs (from a moron; no less) and can’t have a glass of wine for fear of dehydration because I’m losing so many bodily fluids, as it is. It’s like an intense mini pregnancy every month. An that’s why you gents can’t handle it, when the shit hits the fan at baby time. You haven’t been conditioned, since you were eleven or twelve, with little glimpses at having a tiny person living inside of you. We’re crazy, because we have to go through drills and then, the big show. It’s like pre-Vietnam boot camp, meets Alien. With a whole bunch more actual pain and throwing up. And my periods, now, are like mini-pregnancies. Good times.

The point is, it sucks…but, it beats having balls.

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