I'm bleeding. Hard. If it was thousands of years ago, before people understood what periods were, I'm sure this could have caused serious freak outs. I'm slightly freaked out every time I go to the bathroom and am confronted with so much blood. Over the past couple of years my cycle's changed—it's almost as if my body's trying to be uber-efficient. I'm down to every 23 or so days, which is decidedly unfair. And then, as if the shorter cycles weren't enough, I'm pretty sure my body's trying to get rid of everything in 24 hours. One crazy heavy day and then I'm basically done. That part's great but the one day is hell. Cramps that have doubled me over in the street.
*an interesting fact: cramps are actually the uterus contracting to move menstrual flow out of the body
Even on hot, sticky summer days I have to wrap myself around a hot water bottle for a chunk of time. My body's desire to expunge is tremendous and I often get the runs as well. And have to pee far more often than usual.
Just so I don't get too complacent, every few months my body saves it all up and my period is late. At least late compared to this revved up schedule. Each extra day, as my face breaks out more and more, the hormone headache builds to migraine proportions and my moodiness is stretched to the limit, so sure my period must have started, it hasn't. This month it was 6 days later than I was expecting and it's been brutal. I've been wearing sunglasses around the clock as bright light, or any light, hurts the inside of my skull. My skin has been so sensitive worn-in jeans feel like sandpaper. I had a pimple on my upper lip that rivaled anything I had in high school.
It's now 8:51. My head is throbbing. My sunglasses are firmly in place even though the shades in my living room are down. My hair is far greasier than it should be. My entire body is achy, as if I carried a high stack up cartons up 10 flights of stairs. My middle is swollen and tender. If I drink any more hot chocolate, my pee will look like Hershey's syrup.
I have to run to the bathroom.
Again.
3 comments:
welcome to peri-menopause.
So sorry you are not having a happy period (contrary to what the commercials promise us if we use their products).
Is it at all comforting to know you're not alone? I never had PMS till I hit my 40s. Now it's weeklong ordeal.
Oh, how I sympathise. The toilet resembles an abattoir. The head throbs like the worst hangover in (barely) living memory. Night-time towels are 'de rigeur' all day. Riddled with angst, maniacally tidying my dreadfully messy house whilst clutching a hot water bottle to my throbbing belly. Screeching at my much-loved and long-suffering spouse. Devouring dry breakfast cereal straight from the box with a shaking hand due to an overwhelmingly insatiable craving for carbohydrates. Oh how I wish I could be the (relatively) sane woman I once was. I wish I could say I was a well-balanced individual for the other three weeks in the month, but I fear my kids would disagree. C'est la vie!
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