bloody monday
WARNING: Dad, i know you read my blog and it is great that you support me, but please do not read this. i love you, hence the warning.
there has never been a time in my life i was happy to get my period. not in september of grade seven, and definitely not this morning.
i started going off judy blume when i read ‘are you there God, it’s me margaret.’ what sort of person would want to get their period? i assumed that it was an united states girl thing. one of the ways canadians are different to southern north americans. there was no internet in those days and i lived closer to the north pole than to the united states, so i had no way of finding out.
there has never been a time in my life when i looked at my knickers, saw that my cycle had started and exclaimed, “WHEW!! i’m not pregnant!” when you are trying to conceive, your period is the red badge of discouragement. it is devastating. a HPT telling you you are NOT PREGNANT is one thing, but when youd body does, it is a cruel betrayal.
even today, when my cycle arrived with its usual unreliable choice of day, i felt disappointed. not because the winter prom which is being held in the gym and i have been asked by the captian of the football team to be his date is next week and i didnt want to be bloated and carrying tampons around in my purse, but because my period is the present reminder of my infertility. who can’t get pregnant? TESS!!!!
(that tess does not want to get pregnant any more, is not relevant.)
i hate pads, and i hate tampons too. i hate jumping into my greying nubby period knickers.
pads are unreliable and shift about, and tampons hurt. please, don’t advise me to buy the “teen slim” tampons, because then i would be changing them every 18 minutes. that would hurt too.
during my testing the fates stage, when i had a hot thong friendly body, when i was expecting my period, but hoping against hope and several negative HPTS (that i had fished out of the garbage hours after taking them just in case a late positive second line was showing) that i was pregnant, i would wear my finest undergarments. victoria’s secret, and the agent provocateurs i had picked up in london. you wouldn’t let me get my period while wearing these!!!
but even then i knew the inevitable was en route. i would wear one of those thong pantiliners. can i say right now that those liners have not been tested correctly. they have an unerring ability NOT to stick to the aforementioned thong, and to attach themselves leech like to anything they can land on. they are flypaper. save yourself money, ladies, don’t get a brazilian wax, wearing thong pantiliners is the perfect diy.
i am not wearing a sweater wrapped around my waist, but i can guarantee you that after i stand up, and before i turn out the light, i will check the chair.
and then, if necessary, my trousers.
so, i leave you with these happy thoughts, because i have to go now. don’t i have horses to ride, gymnastics competitions to win, and swimming to do? dancing closely with a hot man while wearing a white miniskirt and smiling knowingly?
see you.
