06-06-2015, 08:03 AM
Oh, hello period.
We meet again.
You woke me in the middle of the night this time.
URGENT! EMERGENCY! DISASTER ALERT!
The way you knock painfully loud on my uterus, it’s all terribly unnecessary you know.
But I see you’re right on time.
I forgot your familiar sense of special pain.
The way you make your presence known makes my stomach churn.
The weight of your burden makes my back ache.
I have no other choice; I must drown myself in double chocolate, caramel chip, marshmallow peanut butter swirl ice-cream.
It’s tradition.
What I hate the most about your uninvited visits, Period, is not that you dress me like a slob.
Or even that you force me to tears over the last slice of pizza.
It has to be the painful reminder that I have not had sex for yet another month.
I believe that makes four and counting.
Mother Nature must have a cruel sense of humor sending you to torture and taunt me.
Never letting me forget that
I Am Barren.
Don’t you see that my womb could be full of love and life and joy?
That I am capable of so much more!
That my body could grow such a magnificent life!
Can’t you just see my womb has so much potential?
But sadly you inhabit it instead.
An ironic projection of my messy, painful life.
You know, I think I’m just going to curl up in bed until you are gone.
This unfruitful uterus is not much in the mood for houseguests.
When you’re done wreaking havoc, please just clean up after yourself and lock the door.
And make sure you leave a little trail of blood
In my tiny pink panties
So I don’t forget you,
Period.
We meet again.
You woke me in the middle of the night this time.
URGENT! EMERGENCY! DISASTER ALERT!
The way you knock painfully loud on my uterus, it’s all terribly unnecessary you know.
But I see you’re right on time.
I forgot your familiar sense of special pain.
The way you make your presence known makes my stomach churn.
The weight of your burden makes my back ache.
I have no other choice; I must drown myself in double chocolate, caramel chip, marshmallow peanut butter swirl ice-cream.
It’s tradition.
What I hate the most about your uninvited visits, Period, is not that you dress me like a slob.
Or even that you force me to tears over the last slice of pizza.
It has to be the painful reminder that I have not had sex for yet another month.
I believe that makes four and counting.
Mother Nature must have a cruel sense of humor sending you to torture and taunt me.
Never letting me forget that
I Am Barren.
Don’t you see that my womb could be full of love and life and joy?
That I am capable of so much more!
That my body could grow such a magnificent life!
Can’t you just see my womb has so much potential?
But sadly you inhabit it instead.
An ironic projection of my messy, painful life.
You know, I think I’m just going to curl up in bed until you are gone.
This unfruitful uterus is not much in the mood for houseguests.
When you’re done wreaking havoc, please just clean up after yourself and lock the door.
And make sure you leave a little trail of blood
In my tiny pink panties
So I don’t forget you,
Period.