I will not enjoy being a girl

This post might be a little TMI for some people, but so be it.

I'm known for telling you guys things that most people wouldn't admit out loud, so there.

Anyway.

I'm not enjoying my female-ness at the moment.

Or on a fairly regular, cyclical basis for that matter. From what I hear from my lady friends who are a bit older than me, it's only going to get worse from here on out.

Which is awesome.

Not.

I'm on the pill, the heathen that I am. I've been on probably ten+ different incarnations of the pill in my lifetime, but never had to deal with the crap that I am dealing with now. I get the most bizarre abdominal cramps like every three weeks. Not just lady cramps, like all the way up to the base of my rib cage. Then I want to curl up in a ball and hide from the world for three days or so until it passes.

Usually, of course, I can't do that because four kids.

Occasionally, though, I do force myself to sit down and wallow in my misery. I usually spend most of that day consuming whatever chocolate is in the house (even the semi-sweet chocolate chips - don't you judge me, dammit) and watching some movie that I should not watch because it makes me cry like a little girl ordinarily, but when I feel like this I ugly cry with dry heaving and snot bubbles and everything.

Freaking hormones.

Lord.

Ah, flowering.

I have wondered aloud to a few friends recently why this shit only seems to get worse the older we get. Why is the beginning of menstruation this beautiful flowering moment where girls are transformed into women who can have babies and do all this awesome stuff...but by the time you're solidly in your mid-30's, you no longer have the foggiest idea WTF is going on in your body and you occasionally hate everyone in the house? Even the dog? Yes, even the dog.

Admit it.

Sometimes you hate the dog too.

Why?

What happens to us???

Why do we tolerate it being referred to with romantic notions like flowering when what is really happening is that we actually lay a goddamn egg, then if we don't magically turn the egg into a baby with some help of a man, we get to bleed for a week???


What is romantic and beautiful about that???

Not a damn thing, that's what.

I can honestly say that I've never frolicked in a field on my period. I may have gone to the beach or the pool with my friends reluctantly, but there was no confident volleyball playing happening. No sir. There were shorts over swimsuits and constant string checks when the shorts had to come off. You know what I am talking about. God.

Being a girl can suck it.

Sure, making babies and having babies and nursing babies is cool as hell...but the rest of the time? Like the 70% of your adult life you aren't going to be doing those things?

Being a girl can SUCK IT.

SUCK IT.

Why are there all these books dedicated to helping teenage girls navigate the wonderful world of womanhood, but there is literally nothing out there to help us figure out what the hell happened to our bodies this time?

Why?

Riddle me that.

I can't curl up in a ball on the couch and watch Steel Magnolias today as much as I want to laugh at Skeeter, then cry when Shelby dies, then ugly cry after the funeral, I can't.

I have too dang much stuff to do today.

Besides, I got a bag of mint dark chocolate bark in my fair trade box o'free stuff this week and it's got my name all over it. Which is good. We're out of chocolate chips. Some raging bitch ate them all last month.

You can buy it here. You know you want some.

This shit might save lives today, you guys.

Who am I kidding?

It will save lives.

For real.