First things first: I like being a girl, and I often feel blessed for my reproductive organs. I’m sure when I become pregnant I’ll go through this other-wordly, chakra opening appreciation for my sheer feminine form, but up until then and no sooner, my uterus can be seen as the ultimate form of awful baggage. Every month I anticipate what is often week long arduous cramping, emotional hell I’m about to be put through, all in an act of revenge due to me once again failing to fertilize my snarly, mean uterus. If could switch my sex organs for one cycle with my boyfriend, I would warn him of the following things.
FIRST: Be prepared for ruined underwear and lots of swearing. It doesn’t just like to come every month, it likes to come at the most inopportune time. The one time you aren’t prepared with tampons or anything, out in the bush while you’re busy trying to prove to your prospective lover that you like hiking and you have to MacGyver your way through the next few hours before you can access ‘hygiene products’. If you even know it’s coming, don’t set yourself up for disappointment and wear your fancy new underwear, mother nature will shit on your hopes and dreams.
SECOND!: Cramps, cramps and wait for it… more cramps! Often it feels as though you have rented out your uterus to a large family of Mexicans celebrating Cinco de Mayo, fireworks, piñatas and all. Due to the fact that you’re overly fertile, and come from a long line of fertility idols (AKA:mothers and grandmothers), your uterus gets extra cranked when you don’t allow for the passage of sperm that particular month. In an act of royal defiance she sends down cramps before, during and often after the cycle. This essentially means that at any given point during 50% of your damn life, you’re having cramps. I know, I KNOW. It’s shedding it’s lining, it’s gonna probably sting a bit. I’ve taken then liberty of drawing what I understand it to be like.
THIRDLY: Emotional entropy. Under the best of circumstances (if you’re anything like me) you’re an emotional basket case. So when you get particularly crazy, you should enjoy having an out like an impending uterine lining shed to blame it on. While it doesn’t make up for everything else, it somewhat helps. Prepare yourself dear boyfriend, for fits of rage, sadness and a constant state of overwhelming irritation. Irritation at absolutely everything from the way the blanket is folded on the couch to the divine and absolute stupidity of everyone. It’s ok that you feel this way, and it will pass, but try not to make any major life decisions during this time. Sleep on it, ok? We’ll break up tomorrow.
And MY FAVOURITE: The stark realization that all of this will be amazingly worse, should you decide to house a fetus in there. Cramps like this?! What is is going to be like when theres a little person in there? Emotional sensitivity?! You’re going to be a 24/7 tornado of emotions, anger and rage when you’re pregnant. Wearing out yourself and quite possibly everyone around you. Let’s hope that before you got yourself knocked up you really solidified those relationships. BIRTH? If ruining a pair of underwear is distressing what happens when you pass a child, a sac of amniotic fluid AND poop on the delivery table all at the same time?! And don’t worry, this stark realization will pass and then come again every, single, month.
What’s that? You’d like your penis back? I don’t blame you, dear boyfriend.