I'm not a feminist, I swear

Apr 11th, 2009 9:57:43 am - Subscribe
Mood: PMSy

I used to have one of those trashy, convenience store key chains with a wise ass remark on it. It read: It's not PMS, it's you.

I know that my hormones have been disturbed by this monthly cycle but is it right to assume that the things I say during this portion of the month are not important?

PMS turns women into raging monsters. They are no longer to be trusted or allowed an opinion. It is best to ignore anything slipping from the mouth of a menstruating woman. Once women return to a more sensible state, a physician my permit them to speak again and to decide if any conflict is remotely relevant.

I constantly excuse myself for speaking harshly several days before my period. I also apologize for things I say during a bout of depression, mania, hysteria, apathy, etc.

I can't help but wonder if, perhaps, I'm only human.

We live in such a drugged up country. Everyone has a mental disorder these days. No one feels blue anymore, they are depressed. Kids don't have discipline problems, they have ADD. Always something just out of our control.

Women don't have bad days, they have PMS.

I love looking at old advertisements for vibrators from the 60s. They all mentioned "relieving hysteria," which poses the question; what is the definition of hysteria?

I know when I don't have sex or masturbate for a long time, the desire decreases. However, there tends to be strong correlation between crankiness and desire left unfulfilled. Does that make me hysterical or just sexually frustrated? It blows my mind to think men actually tried to market to women this way. Or perhaps they were marketing to the husbands who were, in turn, forcing their wives to believe that their behavior was unnatural and ill.

But if women masturbate now they are selfish and weird. If they want actually want sex for something other than a tool to get things, they're nymphomaniacs. If they want sex several times a day, they're not just unsatisfied, they're sex-crazed and should probably seek medical attention.

Medical attention doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Several days a month, I have twisting, stabbing pain in my abdomen. It feels like I have to poop but I usually don't. Any light with brightness greater than a match makes me feel like my throbbing head is going to explode. I can't lay on my stomach due to my aching breasts. Then they pretty much drag on the floor all day. My entire body aches, no position is comfortable. No pain reliever can even take the edge off. None of my jeans fit and I have no top to accent those ugly sweat pants at the bottom of my drawer. I feel ugly, I feel fat. I feel gross and dirty. Everything anyone says pisses me off but I say nothing at the risk of seeming bitter or cranky. The pain forces me to lose all desire to move but then I'm at the risk of appearing lazy and boring. I can shower over and over and never feel clean. Not to mention the fact that my vagina is oozing a thick, smelly substance that could potentially ruin my pants, day, and anything that I sit on.

Oh, I forgot you don't like hearing about those things. Imagine actually having it happen to you seven days a month until your body decides that at you're ancient age you've finally had enough.

"You've never gotten kicked in the balls."

You're absolutely correct. I have never been kicked in the balls. I will never understand the pain of being a man.

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