I’d be afraid to look at the calendar. I’d wonder, “Will it be bad this month?” I’d plan lunchdates around it… I’d try to cook days in advance… I’d even plan going to bed around 6:00 pm in hopes of being alive again by the time I needed to go to my 8:00am class. When PMDD week hit, I would start contemplating why I was alive. Emotionally, I was a mess. Physically, I was exhausted, but not in any type of pain.
One of my best friend would start getting cramps a week in advance. She’d cry over everything, want to break up with her boyfriend, would wear sweatpants to class. And through it all she’d tell me, “I just can’t wait to get my period!” Emotionally, she was weepy. Physically, she had uncomfortable cramps.
Yet another friend of mine had endometriosis. At this point in my life she was living in the suite across from me, and I swear, once a month it sounded like someone was performing Civil War era amputations in the room next door. The poor woman was in PAIN. Emotionally, she was fine. Physically, she was in excrutiating pain.
Where do you lie on the spectrum? Would you say you struggle more physically or emotionally when it’s time for Aunt Flo’s visit?
I’ll never forget the girl who was hanging out in my dorm room and started giving the party (yes, it was a PARTY) a lecture about how wonderful it is to menstruate. She was the type of girl with a shaved head and large earrings, who ran multiple miles every day while communing with nature, wrote essays on feminism, and who apparently also thought that menstruating was a beautiful part of womanhood. I remember getting a pang of guilt in that moment. And it’s never completely gone away.
You see, I take the pill continuously. The goal is for my hormones to stay as rock-steady as possible, without even a dip or a bump. Because in my world, dips and bumps turn into pits of despair. And so I never take the little white placebo pills, and I rarely get my period.
And I LOVE IT!
I haven’t missed it. Not even once.
I can’t help but feel sometimes that I was never really “in the club” as far as womanhood is concerned. So many women grow up excited to have children, revelling in their sexuality, comfortable with their cycle, referring to PMS simply as the day when they have a good cry. What is wrong with me? The whole womanhood thing has really only left me feeling kinda traumatized.
How about you? If you never got your period again, would you mind? Do you revel in your womanhood?