Bloody Hell
I think this is going to be one for my female readers. Not that the guys can't read it. I just that the subject matter may make them a bit squeamish. They can read on if they wish, but they can't blame me if it's too much for them.
Where to start? OK, right here. I cannot wait until menopause. I know some women piss and moan about the horrible inevitability of it, but I'm excited for it. I'm only forty-one and I've been reassured that it's still several years away. However, I've been doing this thing every month since I was eleven years, nine months, and seven days old (yes, I remember the date - January 2, 1981). That's a long time. Too long, in my opinion. And it's not like I ever wanted to have children. If I did, I could see how the monthly foray through Bloody Hell might be worth it on a certain level. For me, it's always been absolutely pointless. I don't even need it to tell me I'm NOT pregnant, because the chances of getting pregnant in my world are thankfully slim.
So, my uterus has always been and will always be completely useless. If I could have an elective hysterectomy, I would. Tomorrow, in fact. Let me keep at least one ovary (to avoid the hormonal changes) and I'd be good. I just don't understand the women who get so upset about the idea. I can see if they want kids and haven't had any yet, but otherwise... Lord Jesus. No more Aunt Flo? That sounds like a deal to me. If my doctor ever tells me, I need one (or can have one), there will be a huge party (think Inaugural Ball) to celebrate. Heck, we may party before, during, and after. Ding-dong My Uterus is Gone! Bye-bye Uterus! The potential themes are innumerable. Remember how embarrassed I was at my fortieth birthday party when I had to wear the sombrero and everyone sang at Zapata's? Not at the Adios Uterus Party. I'll wear that damn hat all night AND play the bugle.
Ooh, even better. What if I could give my uterus away to a woman unable to carry a child? I would gladly do it. No question. It'd be a total win-win. I wouldn't have to suffer through the monthly onslaught of pain and ickiness anymore and she would get to have the baby she's always wanted. Why haven't they developed a transplant program for this sort of thing? Hell, I'd even be willing to donate an ovary right along with my uterus. I've got two. I can certainly spare one to cure some woman's infertility. Granted any offspring created would be genetically my children, but I can't see myself being at all concerned with that. Best of all, I'd do it for free.
Sadly, I don't think any of that is going to happen any time soon. I'm left with the monthly ick for a few more years. I don't hate much in this world, but I do hate this. It may only be a few unpleasant days each month, but it's more than I care to experience. Especially after thirty years. That's adds up to 360 menstrual periods (not to mention a lot of tampons). Call it what you want - The Curse, The Crimson Tide, Anal Sex Week, Masacre at the Y, The Rag, or any other euphemism you like, it sucks. Period. And I want to be done with it. Now.
Where to start? OK, right here. I cannot wait until menopause. I know some women piss and moan about the horrible inevitability of it, but I'm excited for it. I'm only forty-one and I've been reassured that it's still several years away. However, I've been doing this thing every month since I was eleven years, nine months, and seven days old (yes, I remember the date - January 2, 1981). That's a long time. Too long, in my opinion. And it's not like I ever wanted to have children. If I did, I could see how the monthly foray through Bloody Hell might be worth it on a certain level. For me, it's always been absolutely pointless. I don't even need it to tell me I'm NOT pregnant, because the chances of getting pregnant in my world are thankfully slim.
So, my uterus has always been and will always be completely useless. If I could have an elective hysterectomy, I would. Tomorrow, in fact. Let me keep at least one ovary (to avoid the hormonal changes) and I'd be good. I just don't understand the women who get so upset about the idea. I can see if they want kids and haven't had any yet, but otherwise... Lord Jesus. No more Aunt Flo? That sounds like a deal to me. If my doctor ever tells me, I need one (or can have one), there will be a huge party (think Inaugural Ball) to celebrate. Heck, we may party before, during, and after. Ding-dong My Uterus is Gone! Bye-bye Uterus! The potential themes are innumerable. Remember how embarrassed I was at my fortieth birthday party when I had to wear the sombrero and everyone sang at Zapata's? Not at the Adios Uterus Party. I'll wear that damn hat all night AND play the bugle.
Ooh, even better. What if I could give my uterus away to a woman unable to carry a child? I would gladly do it. No question. It'd be a total win-win. I wouldn't have to suffer through the monthly onslaught of pain and ickiness anymore and she would get to have the baby she's always wanted. Why haven't they developed a transplant program for this sort of thing? Hell, I'd even be willing to donate an ovary right along with my uterus. I've got two. I can certainly spare one to cure some woman's infertility. Granted any offspring created would be genetically my children, but I can't see myself being at all concerned with that. Best of all, I'd do it for free.
Sadly, I don't think any of that is going to happen any time soon. I'm left with the monthly ick for a few more years. I don't hate much in this world, but I do hate this. It may only be a few unpleasant days each month, but it's more than I care to experience. Especially after thirty years. That's adds up to 360 menstrual periods (not to mention a lot of tampons). Call it what you want - The Curse, The Crimson Tide, Anal Sex Week, Masacre at the Y, The Rag, or any other euphemism you like, it sucks. Period. And I want to be done with it. Now.
Just wanted to give you a little pat on the back..your writing is good Stac..keep it up. Never know.
ReplyDeleteThank you...
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