My period came early again

Is this my life now? My period comes hella early like my mom leaving to go to the airport only to wait primly at the gate for several hours while furtively pounding watered-down airport bar G&Ts.

Hey cis dudes, can I give you a pro tip? If a woman tells you her period came early, the appropriate thing to say in response is not, “Better early than late!” Because you know what’s better than an early or late period? No period at all, which is what you get to experience all the time.

Just in case any of y’all psychos did the math on this one, I’m actually several days into my period, because the first few days I was too dejected to sit here and write about it. The only words that came to mind were “I’m on my period and fuck you, bye.”

I finally finished reading Lord of the Rings, which I was pretty excited to be done with, but then once it was over I was kind of bummed out and missed reading it. Stockholm Syndrome, basically. God I’m so boring.

My period came early and I am not here for any of y’all’s bullshit

I mean, at least it’s not the same day as Trump’s inauguration this time. But it is the same day as Trump being president, because that’s every day.

I’m sure y’all were wondering with bated breath, When will Leah post about her period again? It’s been an awfully long time. Is she pregnant? Let’s hope so, because then she and Beyoncé will have babies in the same year. But also, let’s hope not, because Trump is the president and also that Pepsi commercial with Kylie or Kendall or Kookie whatever the fuck exists now.

The reality is, I forgot. Because I was busy bleeding out of my vagina. Sue me.

This time, however, I did not forget. Because within the series of moments during which I discovered that my period came early, I was treated to a series of almost-as-exciting discoveries outside of my body.

I was feeling like I wanted some privacy (there must’ve been an instinct deep inside of me that knew my vagina was about to fuck me up) so I went straight to the single capacity bathrooms at work – AKA pooping bathrooms – and all were occupied but two. I went into the first one, and the seat was straight-up COVERED in pee. It was like a fucking Jackson Pollock painting, except instead of a paint brush that an artist purposefully draped over a canvas that no one sits on, it was a stupid fucking penis attached to a stupid fucking man.

I then proceeded into the other bathroom, and, lo and be-fucking-hold, the seat was up, y’all! What in the goddamn ass is going on? I work in a building with literally the smartest computer engineers in the country, who make hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars a year. These people have wives. These people have mothers. And I’m even more horrified to say that there are male coworkers of mine who think it’s fine to leave the seat up in a multi-sex/gender bathroom.

Every time a dude sits on a toilet seat covered in another dude’s piss, somewhere in the world a dog adopts a bunch of orphaned kittens.

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Anyway, after putting down the GOT-DAMNED seat that some piece of shit decided to leave up for my ass to take care of, I had to shove a piece of cylindrical cotton up my hoo ha and proceed back to my desk for several hours of bending double in pain, and I just don’t feel like being cool with dudes being garbage right now!

I’m on my period, Grand Canyon edition

If the universe didn’t want me to make a bunch of puns about the Grand Canyon and my period, it wouldn’t have brought my period while I was in Arizona to visit the Grand Canyon.

Unfortunately I didn’t have time to write this while I was actually there because I was too busy *~hiking~* and *~clutching my bloated tummy~* so I may be incapable of producing inspiring puns, particularly because I’m back in New York and there’s nothing red or arid or cavernous about this place. Also, I haven’t written here in ages so I feel a little out of practice.

Bae and I felt that, given the fart-filled balloon we’ve elected as president, we ought to go out and support our national parks while we still have the chance. Some day I’ll be able to tell my grandchildren that I shed my uterine lining while hiking the Grand Canyon. They’ll be filled with awe, like a pad bursting with blue fluid. Or they won’t even know what I’m talking about, because the Grand Canyon will have been filled with concrete to build a Google campus #justkiddinggoogle #idneverinsultyougoogle #iloveyougoogle

By the way, y’all, a body was airlifted out of the canyon the day before we came. I literally experience moments of fear walking down a hallway that I will just fall on my face spontaneously, and I somehow endured the Grand Canyon after finding out that someone had just fallen to their death. Unsurprisingly, most of the people who die in the canyon are men.

All right, that’s enough rambling.

I’m on My Period: I Forgot to Bring Tampons on My Trip Edition

Hello friends. It’s that time you look forward to each month, when I entreat you to the gory details of my Aunt Flo, or what I like to call “the shedding of my uterine lining” because it’s fucking 2017 and I don’t need to use a euphemism for that. Thank you very much.

I’m on my way back from said trip on the Chinatown bus, very much enjoying the man next to me melting into my seat. Is it, like, not in men’s range of emotion to pull in their excess body parts? I feel like I’m surrounded by goddamn amoebas. Get it the fuck together, men.

Am I feeling bitter, you ask? How could you tell? When I was on birth control I didn’t have a period, and now my cramps are back to being so bad that I get both sweaty and chilly like I have a fever, except I still have to go work and be surrounded by mediocre men while I do their jobs. LOL omg so fun.

At least I didn’t start my period while I was on the Chinatown bus. I can feel grateful to fake Jesus for that.

Now this dude is passed the fuck out. He’s doing that sleep apnea thing where you’re like, are you dead? And then they gasp for air and you’re like, oh I guess you’re fine. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to watch this video of a chimpanzee making a hammock and the goddamn internet is too slow. WOE IS ME!!

Christmas, I’m On My Period Edition

My best friend accompanied us down for Christmas this year, so we have a full house. Lucky for everyone, we’re both on our period! #hormones  #bloated #NSYNC

To be accurate, we’re both pretty much done at this point, but instead of posting about my period I’ve been binge-watching Arrested Development with my family and farting up a storm. Because of the #fullerhouse, I’m sharing a bed with my mom, so I have to hold my farts in all night to spare her! Because I’m so #selfless.

The only restaurant open in my mom’s nabe last night was The World’s Most Mediocre Indian Restaurant, at which we spent the entire meal attempting to convince ourselves of the edibility of the food in front of us. We might’ve succeeded were it not for the roach that scurried across the carpet toward our booth in horrifying pursuit as we were waiting for the check. We were the only customers there, but somehow that made our shrieking and leaps onto the booth all the more embarrassing in front of the restaurant staff. Literal actual PTSD.

I thought I was going to write more but as it turns out, it’s 12:18 AM already.

I have my period, Thanksgiving edition

In the spirit of gratitude and kinsfolk and passing on our family history to future generations, my mom recounted our birth stories on Thanksgiving night in riveting detail.

Just to ensure that none of us forgot about it, the Circle of Life nudged its unwelcome ass back into the conversation by delivering me a whole goddamn can of tomato soup a day early. Which, when you only have three weeks out of every four free, is no insignificant chunk (forgive the pun) of time.

We went thrift store shopping on Black Friday because we’re broke down as fuck, but everything I tried on made me look like overstuffed sausage casing because of my period. If you think you’re bloated after Thanksgiving dinner, try having your period the day after Thanksgiving. It’s like when you try to stuff a sleeping bag back into its original sack.

Ugh, can I not go back to New York though? My uncle, who’s from there, says “Love it or leave it.” If everyone followed that advice, New York would just be the population of Donald Trump’s country club plus that one fruit seller on Wall Street that harasses women about grapes. Nobody who has to take the subway just unconditionally loves their life all the time. Especially that dude that had a seizure in front of me that one time.

Anyhow, feeling #blessed with the kickass family I have that all voted for Hillary, even my two grandparents from Texas who voted Republican their whole lives. I guess that’s what happens when both of your kids are queer as fuck. Bye!

 

What do I do now?

Is anyone else having the experience today of momentary amnesia? I’m being trained for new job responsibilities, so my mind is occupied by learning for perhaps an hour at a time, and then a jolt (less a jolt and more a menstrual cramp) of reality washes over me and I remember that we have elected Donald Trump to be our next president.14962656_1174069676020606_8122524643330499631_n

Menstrual cramp truly is the correct word for this, because it feels like I’m on my period. I’m feeling fatigued. I’m feeling achy. I even had a lower back ache so akin to a menstrual cramp last night that I was certain my body had brought my period early, desperate to flush out the toxicity of what is happening. I especially felt a phantasm of such a purge each time I felt that familiar glandular rush of tears trying to escape, at random, throughout the day. When I looked in the mirror yesterday morning, I had lines in between my brows where they’d embedded themselves in furrowed worry all night long.

I want to write something funny. I have been known to make jokes at inappropriate moments, perhaps because I am so entrenched in discomfort all the time – and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen so many people in discomfort at once. It feels like trying to make a joke at a funeral. It just hurts so badly, so absurdly that I want to laugh.

This isn’t to say that it didn’t hurt before. We all live in the water of hegemony and it takes insight to view the murkiness of it. It’s just that all of a sudden the dirtiness of the water is in stark contrast for everyone now. Is that a poor metaphor? It’s hard to come up with images for how complicated this situation is. I don’t want this to be too long. It’s just hard to collect my thoughts enough to be concise.

So anyway, a few ways I plan to keep my fucking shit together during this trying time (and hopefully help some other people keep their fucking shit together):

1. Take video when I see interactions between people of color (especially Black/Latinx people) and the police: this is something I started doing recently, when I realized that video can be (but frighteningly, often isn’t) a way to hold people accountable for their actions, and when I realized that when people of color do this they are at risk of being arrested.
2. Watch documentaries. Read books. Make more friends whose experiences are different from mine. Challenge myself to accept discomfort in my privilege instead of avoiding it.
3. Take care of myself, so that I have the ability to take care of others.
4. Fucking meditate or some shit.
5. I’m already guilty of paying too much goddamn attention to the shit that’s happening around me (one of the reasons I’m on Lexapro) but y’all mothafuckin KNOW I will make a big-ass fuss if I see someone acting on any Trump-inspired impulse.
6. Give more hugs. My hugs kick ass!
7. Laugh like hell. Laugh all the fucking time. Access my Jewish roots and make fun of myself endlessly, until it hurts less.
8. Listen, listen, listen.
9. Support art by people of color, support art by women, support art by disabled people, support art by trans people. Demand that I have a place in the worlds that I inhabit.

What else to say? Making even the smallest of jokes feels wrong.

I don’t feel like I can offer very much, but I will ride a bike to you, and with you. I will watch Arrested Development with you. I will make a dish with you and then make a lot of jokes about how gross it looks. I will go with you to Planned Parenthood. I will walk down the street with you. This shit is so fucking scary.