Andie.ink

I just want to reiterate why I am sharing such a personal experience:
#1. Writing helps me process. #2. The #1 desire of my writing, or anything I do in life really, is connection and relationship. I want to share my story, my journey; so that others in my shoes, or similar ones, can know they are not alone. Also, it’s so that they may gain more insight and practical information. I want to make it clear that I am not writing to gain pity or sympathy, but to bring connection and understanding.

OK. Let us begin:

My uterus is a jerk.

For the last year my cycles have been getting shorter and shorter.

This month? My last cycle?

FOUR

DAYS

LATE.

That’s four days late compared to my original cycle, not the ones getting shorter and shorter.

In the words of the Millennials, “I can’t even with my uterus right now.”

Of ALL the periods to be late, THIS ONE?!

I spent  an entire week wondering if I had miraculously gotten pregnant (FYI, it’s not possible).
My anxiety was maxed. I couldn’t sleep. My mood swings had more rotation than than the second hand on a clock.

I googled the crap out of pregnancy symptoms which is silly on it’s own because for me, when I get pregnant, there’s no question. Prince John and I become best friends for a good portion of the pregnancy.

But my mind couldn’t stop. I started having hot flashes from the stress. I took THREE pregnancy tests knowing they would be negative.

I cramped for TWO full days before I started and usually I don’t start cramping until after I have started.

Like I said, my uterus is a ( insert your favorite swear word here. I thought of several good ones but thought this could be an interactive blog post like those fill in stories you played on road trips as a kid.)

So, four days late it started. It’s reminding me just why I am doing this and that’s my only consolation for the four day fiasco.

(swears again at Uterus)

However, I’ve decided to take the high road. To let my heart and mind be the better organs in this scenario. Instead of giving into to the misery and the short vicinity constraint to a bathroom my period leaves me with… I’ve decided to embrace this last cycle while giving my uterus a metaphorical middle finger.

I’m going to live through the stereotypical things woman on their period do. I’m going to indulge the uterus all while snickering behind it’s back knowing that in less than two weeks, it’s going to be ripped from it’s warm little home where it likes to sit and make plans to torture me month after month.

For example. Yesterday being my first day, I was pretty cranky, irritable and mad. So… I ate two donuts for lunch. I got my favorite kind, glazed sour cream ( to dunk in my coffee) and a cream (NOT custard! Sorry Doctor) Long John.

In light of how great it felt to gratify my last period self, I have decided to eat whatever I want during this last cycle. Pizza… Ice Cream… Chocolate bars… Cakes… Donuts… fries… whatever I feel like.

I’ll call it my homage to the Uterus.

So, if you see my around town wearing pajamas, eating junk food and screaming profanities at either men or my stomach, please do not call the local Psychiatric Ward.

I have not lost my mind. I’m embracing what it means to be a woman 7 days out of a month.