Plethora of Periods

I have this chronic condition. It's debilitating sometimes. Interrupts my quality of life. I should get a prescription for medical marijuana for this condition. Or lithium. Do they still prescribe lithium?

I have The Period.

Yeah, so the boys might not want to read on. Just sayin'.

Started my period today, which means I spent a better part of my day at Disneyland yesterday stressing about starting and dealing with the insanity that comes just before I start. Seriously, the time right before I release the craken of blood is what I like to call the Hormone Death Trap Vortex of Insanity and Pain. Not to mention how effing inconvenient it is to have cramps and a case of the crankies and have to keep checking to see if you've started while you're also trying to live your life and even have fun (imagine that!).

Side note: I did have fun yesterday! It was just dampened by my fucking period. Yo.

Don't get me started on how much The Period sucks big giant sweaty monkey ass. I can't think of an upside. How to explain for those who don't have The Period (though if those lucky souls are still reading, I'd be damn surprised.)? I've already mentioned how Period is such a wimpy ass title for what it really is. How about the All Consuming Week of Pain and Horror and Blood. Sound right?

This is probably because of the "plethora," or my "morbid condition due to excess of red corpuscles in the blood or increase in the quantity of blood." Or perhaps it's just a plethora of blood itself. Or a plethora of insane fucking hormones. Or a plethora of cranky pants. Or a plethora of pinatas. 

Note: these symptoms differ in type and severity from woman to woman. Beware the man who assumes PMS. I say this for your own good.

This is my experience:

Cranky Pants. Most of the time (though not always), I know The Period is coming (even without a calendar) because I just want to cinch up my cranky pants and settle into a spectacular pout. I want to revel in my snarky nature, make fun of absolutely everything and drip disdain at the rest. I'm really happiest at that point curled up in bed in my fave pink sweatpants with my hair piled on top of my head, watching terrible movies, and eating ungodly amounts of ice cream and chips. Oh the sweet and salty (but I'll get to food in a bit). The Cranky Pants lasts into The Period, but really morphs into something more evil once it's actually begun. Then it's like an entire closet of cranky pants. You could even say I have a...plethora of cranky pants.

Pregnant Belly. I bloat. Like a motherfucking pregnant blow fish. Never mind that I feel fat and unattractive, because I wouldn't want anyone touching me anyway (ew), but the fact that I'm two sizes bigger just adds to the endless discomfort. And with a belly like this, I'd like something to show for it. Something like, oh, I don't know, how about a goddamn fetus? Instead I have water weight. A plethora of water weight. Who wants to coo at that? I'll tell you who. Nobody. Surprising, I know. I know. But, the one upside is my boobs get huge. Well, not huge by normal standards and certainly not by Hollywood standards (as Pam Anderson doubles over in laughter at my "huge" boobs), but huge for ME. Not that that matters, because they're so fucking tender that if someone touched them right now, I might punch him in the Larynx.

Vice of Death, aka cramps. Oh the motherfucking pain! I've had a plethora of horrendous cramps since my very first Period. It's because of some complicated medical reasons I need not bore you with, except to say that they are awful. As a teen, I'd get cramps so bad I'd pass out. Be debilitated for days, walking was difficult. I manage them now, but it still fucking hurts, feel like someone is squeezing a vice around my entire midsection whilst a little Nazi is kicking me from the inside with steel-toed boots. And THAT makes me cranky as all hell. Which brings me to...

The Screaming Banshee. Once I'm in the throes of The Period, I am in so much pain (a plethora of pain) that I cannot deal with any stress or extraneous thinking. Cannot. Deal. So don't bother me with it. Don't bother me with it. Also, don't touch me. Maybe even consider not looking at me. Otherwise I may just transform into the Screaming Banshee and carry your soul to hell.

Then there is hormone brain. I believe I may have mentioned earlier the plethora of hormones? Oh yeah, there's a plethora all right. Of crazy-making, brain-frying hormones. I've heard some women talk about pregnant brain...well, I don't know anything about that (obviously!), but I do know that during my period, an evil little army of hormones starts switching off the synapses in my otherwise brilliant brain and I cannot think to save a dying unicorn. I mean, really. I probably shouldn't be allowed to drive at this point, but how else is a girl to get to work? Where I will need to do things that require more thinking? That will most likely have to do with using my out of service brain?

Right.

It's a miracle of evolution that humanity still exists even with The Period. I'm just saying it's amazing this many men still live into their reproductive years and women actually mate with them despite the plethora of hormones and banshees and cranky pants and vices of death. I really do feel for the men of this world. They have no idea.

No. Idea.

Oh yeah, I was gonna talk about food. Eating. Yup, The Period makes me want to hoover up vast quantities of fat content and salty calories like a hungry, hungry hippo on death row. It's disgusting. And also amazing. There is never a plethora of food in my house so there is also always a level of disappointment when I realize that if I want to calm the hungry beast within, I will have to leave my lair. And that will probably require shoes. And a hat, if I don't want to scar children for life.

This post participates in:

Shout out to the Nerd Mafia! Which I discovered through Taming Insanity. They started this word game WOW! and I couldn't resist participating because of this week's word. Can you guess what it was? It's one of my favorite words of all time.