I am displeased.
It is that time of the day? week? month? I don't know. My body is so strange and irregular in all aspects that I never know when the demonic blood fury will come on me. That sounds waaaaay cooler than it is...
No, I'm just downright pissed. This is such bullshit. I love my husband dearly, and I am not a man-hater, but this isn't FAIR, girls!
Men do not have to bleed every month. They do not have horrid bloat and zits that mysteriously appear from nowhere and enough hormones to scare a hippo every single time Aunt Flo comes to visit. They can pee standing up, and if you don't think that's neat you have never tried to pee in the woods at night while camping.
Men do not have children, and thus do not have the hemorrhoids, incontinence, mastitis, post-partum depression and so forth that accompany this Blessed And Wondrous Experience. (Granted, I'm not going to have kids either, but I am ENRAGED and therefore immune to logic.) Also, in an evolutionary sense, men can have completely risk-free sex. They are not the ones who will be stuck with said Blessed And Wondrous Experience. You can tell I mean it because I used italics and some capital letters. They can jam their dick in a few times and then scamper off to go write their names in the snow and spear mastodon(s?) or whatever while the girl is stuck wondering if her dad will be mad and whether someone is going to invent canned beans and Ramen before the snow flies, because everybody knows that when you think you might end up barefoot and pregnant you are forced to contemplate subsisting solely on canned beans and Ramen.
Why do I crave so much chocolate? WHY? I am not normally this much of a fiend for the cacao bean, I swear it. I like a bit of chocolate after dinner usually, but these days I'm like a ravening monster for the magical brown stuff. I'm sure this isn't contributing positively to my horrible Zit In Residence. It's probably a vicious cycle, one that I am currently unwilling to break, because Cupcake Royale still has Deathcakes through the 14th. What is the solution to this horrible problem? Let's spell it out like they do on Sesame Street (maybe? I haven't watched since I was 6): W-E-I-G-H-T W-A-T-C-H-E-R-S.
How do I get so fat so QUICKLY? It's like I'm some sort of medical miracle. I'm going along fine, just minding my own, zit-free business, when WHAM I suddenly weigh exactly three pounds more and I forgot to do laundry for like a week, so all I have are Horrible Fat Pants, so I wear the Horrible Fat Pants and feel even worse. Three pounds does not sound like a lot, but I tell you it feels like you've suddenly packed on a preschooler when it happens overnight. I keep drinking liquids, but I just sort of stop peeing, and bingo! We have a winner! Sudden bloat, at your service.
I am vengeful. I need to find something to smash. Yet I am also cheap and greedy. I do not want to break anything I actually like or will have to pay to replace. Decisions, decisions.
On the up side, the bloat and bad skin always go away after the wonderful leaking begins, and I suppose that kind of makes me a little happier, but I'm still so grouchy about the whole thing that I can't really give these improvements the kind of appreciation they deserve. At least with hot flashes and stuff you don't have to jam tubes of cotton batting up in yourself all the time and maybe the zits will finally quit making an appearance.
Come on, menopause!