If the thought of bleeding uteruses (uteri?), especially in the women you know and love like say your mother, makes you feel a) nauseous b) faint c) excited, you might want to skip this post.
So, ladies! Explain to me this mystery: do you all really keep count of your monthly cycles?
I understand it’s like wearing nice panties in case you get run over by a bus – you want to have it on you just in case, so you can leave a good impression on the coroner (or nurse / doctor / mother – if anybody else asks you, by the way, tell them to fuck off. Unless it’s your best friend, who is required by law to accept you as is, with torn underwear and a late period, thus you can tell her whatever you like).
But while I have no problems finding clean underwear, keeping track of my period is entirely another matter.
I know how long it lasts and I can always tell when I’m about to begin. I don’t think I’ve left bloodstains on anything since my early teens even if it was the fashion in high school for girls in the middle of their period to ask their friends to discreetly check out their rear as they passed during “those days”. Ah, India! Where boys hold hands and aren’t ashamed to cry when their feelings are hurt and girls spend a significant portion of their time studying their friends’ behinds. That’s why it’s the Indian century, you know.
Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, as long as I have a general idea of what to expect, I’m all good. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with the water retention and the PMS and the food urges and the aches & pains and the cramps and the cold toes and the blood and the lank hair and the general feeling that I look like crap for a week out of every month – there’s no reason to mark it out in my calendar so I can stare at it in passing and know that the red scourge cometh. I can feel it in my bones already.
And I don’t want to program my phone so it can remind me – what if it gets stolen? Some creep won’t just have the numbers of everyone I know, he could also calculate when I’m about to ovulate. Okay, so that sounds a bit paranoid but stranger things have happened. Besides, anyone crazy enough to steal my base model, no-frills, no-extras, just-barely-good-enough-to-place-a-call phone has to be a pervert of some kind.
I suppose I could sign up to that internet reminder service that sends you an email when your period is due, but period spam is the last thing I need. “Dear Amrita, tomorrow you will be doubled over in pain and want to kill everything that comes near you. Congratulations on being a woman, the sacred vessel of life!” Hooray!
That said, I guess there are times when it comes in handy to know beforehand – if you have a special event to attend or you’re planning to go to the beach or to the doctor’s office or if you’re trying to have a baby, etc.
But that’s not what the doctor recommends, is it? They tell you to keep track all the time. Presumably that’s for a reason (to screw with your head?). Therefore, somebody must be following that advice – if that person is you, tell me all about it.
Oh, and if any of the male readers have made it this far – I don’t suppose you’d want to ask the lady in your life about it, would you?
“Mom / Honey / Aunty-ji, there is this girl on a website and she wants to know…”
Now that would make my life.