I love getting my period, but it’s because I suffer from a serious case of pregnancy paranoia, in spite of always using protection.
Sometimes I worry about getting my period, even if I haven’t slept with anyone since my last period, even if I haven’t slept with someone in months.
There are 2 things I mark by the arrival of my period:
- Yay, no babies!
- Sweet, me and ‘insert boyfriends name’ aren’t knocked up
Or, if it’s the first period after a break up:
- Sweet, now I can actually move on from ‘insert ex-boyfriends name’ now that I know I’m not carrying his big, dumb child.
Although I said I love getting my period, loving actually having my period is a completely different story, and I know every single woman feels the same, so I asked a bunch of my friends to tell me what it’s like having their period and this is what I ended up with:
- “The worst experience in the world, well no, I’m sure there are worse things, but like absolute death.”
- “Like the most pressure you have ever felt inside your abdomen.”
- “Like someone is stabbing you in the stomach”
- “It’s like… This loving organ that wants you to have babies, and if you don’t have babies, it gets fucking pissed. Your period is your uterus raging on you, stabbing you, and screaming, “YOU LACK OF A WHORE, YOU’RE STILL NOT PREGNANT?!”
- “It’s like having children! It’s fucking annoying and when it’s not bugging you, and you forget about it, then you have a fucking mess to clean up!”
- “It’s your uterus rioting against you for not getting pregnant, for the thousandth month is a row…”
- “Like something kicked you in the uterus, than setting it on fire.”
- “Emotional turmoil ending in your uterus trying to kill you, but you’re happy about it.”
- “Like you’re dying.”
It feels like your uterus is trying to claw it’s way out of you via your vagina, angry little thing.
Having your period is like riding an emotional roller coaster that can only be slowed by chocolate cake, carbs, and snuggles, but eating those makes us feel like pudgy, sad, bloated losers, and sometimes you have nobody to snuggle, so the roller coaster takes off again; soon that subsides though, and you get to be in constant pain, but act as though you’re not, and your vagina starts crying bloody tears that are really only being held back by a giant cotton ball shoved up there.
Basically you’re just hanging by a thread for about 10 days.