I’m just going to put it out there that I recommend any men reading this should stop now. Firstly for your own mental sanity, and secondly, no ovaries, no opinion, okay?
So for the last month or so my ever trusty ovaries have decided to fuck with me. I’ve glided through 24 years of life practically able to run a German train schedule around my period. Even coming off the pill didn’t phase my iron man pelvic organs. *makes fighting sounds*
And yet here we are. Last month I waited four days for things to, er, get going, and this month I’ve been waiting six. Not only that, three of my girlfriends are also late. Okay, I’ll admit, the female ability to sync up with your squad has always fascinated and amazed me, but cmon little uteruses (uteri? uteruen?), we’re all set to go. We’re moody, emotional, and our clothes are all a lil tight from the sassy bloat we’ve got going on. Stop making us raid the chocolate draw at work and let’s get this show on the road. Until then, here’s some anecdotes that I’m sure I’m not alone in enduring from the past week.
And before we begin, no I am definitely not pregnant. Amen.
1. You count on your calendar in excess of 59 times trying to prove to yourself that you’re actually just dumb and you’re not due for another week.
2. You calculate how many tampons and/or sanitary pads you’ve wasted trying to will your uterus to get shedding.
3. You put on your prettiest panties in hope you’ll trick your uterus into thinking it’s getting one over on you by staining your finest undies (because why the fuck does that always happen). Spoiler, in this instance it didn’t work.
4. You go for a run or do some star jumps in hope of shaking your pelvis enough for some activity.
5. You’ll spend too much time inspecting used toilet paper hoping for a slight glimmer of blood-tinged hope.
6. You head to the store and buying any vitamin or supplement you can find just incase that gets things going. Spoiler number two, it does not.
7. You brew up mug after mug of ginger tea because Google search result page 19 said it might work. Spoiler number three, it does not.
8. You want to punch people who ask you if you could be pregnant. Like C’MON OBVIOUSLY I’VE THOUGHT OF AND EXCLUDED THAT.
9. And when people ask if you’re stressed. Yes but I’m always stressed soooooooo?
11. You run to the bathroom after realising you’ve actually forgotten about how late you are for about 18 seconds and wonder whether that’s relaxed you enough into coming on. Spoiler number four, it hasn’t.
12. If, like me, you’ve been lucky enough to have a support team on hand who are also waiting for their monthly treat, you’ll send snapchats like this:
13. You start to feel like you’re neck deep in calories and guilt for all the chocolate you’ve been scoffing and justifying with ‘I’ve got PMS’ and fear you’re an utter fraud.
14. You start to picture your life in twenty years when you’re still this bloated and moody and your boobs have swelled up to the size of watermelons and wonder if you’ll still be holding out hope for this one period.
15. You start initiating sex more than ever before, like some kind of porn star, in hope that you can, ya know, poke it out. Spoiler number five, you also can’t.
16. You lay in a foetal position and have a little cry at what your life has become.
17. And react off-the-scale mental at anything that goes wrong.
18. As the days pass, you start to worry that your mood swings aren’t PMS and wonder whether you’ll need to be put in an anger management home.
19. You decide you’re 100% definitely infertile and/or dying of ovarian cancer.
20. You get excited when you start to feel things occurring ‘down there’ but are sadly faced with the reality that you’re nether region is just sweaty.
21. And on that note, you’d actually take a public unexpected-period-arrival-while-wearing-white-jeans moment over waiting ANY longer for it.
Anyway gal pals. That’s that.
Peace, love and tampons.