Every month, without fail, my period comes to call. (KNOCK ON WOOD. Please don’t jinx me, gods.) And every month, my period starts whispering things into my ear. Things it wants. Things it doesn’t want. Periods are a powerful force, aren’t they?
“Send a picture of that book cover to your ex. You know he’d like it. Do it. Go on, what harm is in a friendly gesture like that? It’d probably remind him of all the books you used to find for him and he’d think sweet things about you,” says Period as I’m browsing books at the thrift store. Um, hello, Period – I’m not on friendly terms with said ex, so even though iCloud refuses to delete his presence from my phone that is a very bad idea.
“Definitely stop at the liquor store. It’s a wonderful place and you don’t have any alcohol in your house except that weird bottle of Goldschlager you got from your family on your golden birthday – what the hell do you even drink that with? Nothing. And I want a drink! It’s been a long day! I’m so tiiiiiiiired, I need a little drink. Oh, look! Bota Boxes are on sale! Wow – they’re like $5 off. That’s crazy. You know they can get four bottles of wine in that thing. You’ll be totally fine, you can definitely be strong and only drink a glass a night. Get it. GET IT. It’s SAVING you money on wine AND gas.” My period won that battle. I have a glass of malbec sitting at my elbow as I write.
“Really, though, you cannot finish this workout. I am so tired and I am going to zap all of your energy so the idea of one more set of arm workouts makes you want to fall over and sleep forever. Kara, I’m serious. You can’t do this. You LIKE being a weakling! How about you take a nap on your lunch hour instead of working out?”
I’m out shopping and my period demands I buy a sweater. “I’m so coooooold,” it moans. “It’s like the Arctic in your apartment! I need this $300 sweater marked down to 75% off! I NEED IT. Remember how cold you are when you work from home and you wake up in the morning and have to sit at a freezing cold desk because you have steam radiator heat that acts on its own devices? If you had this pretty lavender sweater you wouldn’t be sad and cold! You don’t even HAVE a sweater this color. Get it! I mean, you wear leggings and sweaters every day. It’s practically your uniform, and uniforms are cool, right?”
Periods are insane. They get you when you’re driving and minding your own business, playing with the radio. Suddenly they’re over your shoulder whispering, “Doesn’t that antique store look pretty with its adorable lights? Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you could ever imagine? Just think about all the old people who died and now their things are in that store.” And then you start crying and Period gloats. Maybe it gets you with a strategically placed rescue-dog clickbait. Whatever it is, Period delights in making you act insane.
Another thing my period does is convince me that it’s fine to have ice cream every night. “It’s not even real dairy ice cream!” she says. “It’s coconut milk. It’s practically calorie-free. Just eat the fucking ice cream. You paid $6.99 for this at Whole Foods so you might as well enjoy it.” Can you guess which hormones were guiding me to make said purchase? Being pregnant must be horrible if this is how it goes.