Men folk, just skip this one. I love you dearly but I don’t think you want to know. Some of you ladies might want to run too.
I tried to warn you. TMI:
Look, it always the same.
When was the last time you had your period?
A year (two) (three) ago.
What day exactly?
I don’t know, that was a long while ago.
Well we need to know because…
My uterus shriveled up and died. It has a vacancy sign. It’s hoarding its eggs, its anti sperm, it doesn’t remember how to ovulate. I do not have a period. I do not take birth control. I am not pregnant. It is medically impossible. TRUST ME.
Ma’am I need you to pee in this cup. We’re going to do a pregnancy test. (I know they test other things in urine)
I’ve spent thousands of dollars on specialists, drugs, many MRI scans, and little men with cold scapulae to decide what’s wrong with me.
The last period I had occurred April 2014. I know this because my hormones were still high enough from childbirth for one to occur normally. (The stars aligned, etc for me to even have a child. The odds against me were overruled by divine intervention. I think God just enjoys hearing Doctors say, “You can’t.” So he can say, “Bah! Watch this!”)
Prior to that, it had been 5 years since Aunt Flo visited. Before that I menstruated a measly 7 years. Compared to the rest of the world, I’m still a teenager.
I do not ovulate. I have enough eggs stored up to make thousands of people parents. (Seriously) It is not natural. But it is what it is.
I admit, not buying pads, not having mood swings, not searching the land for rare steaks to ingest, was extremely appealing. I mean no one wants to do this for 7 to 12 days.
So truly, when I say being visited by the red tide, for the first time in 3 years, wasn’t exactly a welcome, expected event.
First, I had acne.
Deep facial acne. I couldn’t make them stop.
Then I lost my appetite. I just couldn’t eat. Didn’t want to. My stomach hurt and I felt lazy as heck.
And then, much to my bemusement, I had a sign. I laughed and thought, “Yeah right, maybe I should visit my doctor in June though.”
And it came.
Can I tell you I didn’t miss cramps? Bloating? The want to not move from under my blanket fort that I erected on my bed? (I am FREEZING. )I want to eat all the cows.
And there is so.much.blood.
I know it’s stupid but I forgot.
I told my husband:
However, this is distinctly odd. I will have to see if it returns in July… you know, monthly, like normal people’s would. Will shark week be every month or a once every three years when a planet is retrospective and such?
Until then, I ride the crimson wave and remember the joys of womanhood.