That time of the month

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I find it absolutely vile that we women have to go through drudging bouts of physical pain and emotional vulnerability for a few days EVERY month.

I hate the person that I turn into pre-menstruation. I am numb, neutral-bordering-cold, volatile, and suffer from ‘I-hate-the-world’ syndrome.

Very few people have the misfortune of seeing me these few days every month. It’s awfully difficult but absolutely mandatory not act on your bitchy whims when you are with people who don’t know you well; you are fully aware that they will not understand and their friendship means something to you so you have to suck it in, take a deep breath and do whatever else you need to, to assure that they will never see this beastly side of you.

Being far away from people you love is also advisable come this monthly massacre as they are the first ones you lash out at remorselessly. My parents (especially my father) and my brother are those who have really born the brunt of my absolute callous and often violently dramatic behaviour, come this time of the month. They know the symptoms so well that they can distinguish my general intolerance and anger from menstrual intolerance and anger, and have developed the amazing skill of making me laugh when I am at the brink of an emotional explosion. Mum, dad, Anish, how I love you for that. I cannot think of anyone else I can have an outbreak like that with, who will give me a hug rather than delete me from their life.

They are 7000-thousand miles away from me right now, and I’m sure they don’t miss these monthly bouts of mine.

I always wondered why men and women couldn’t share this time of the month. What did women do to deserve scheduled hormonal imbalance and bleeding from their private parts!? It’s so unnecessary and unjust, all so that we can have babies. Shouldn’t we be able to choose? If we don’t want babies, we should not have to deal with the agitation and suffering of menstruation.

On the plus side, sometimes (actually, very few times) I think that menstruation is a great excuse to justifiably rant, vent, stomp your feet, cry, howl, get it all out and be excused for it because — oh…she’s pre-menstrual.

No. Bad argument. I hate this aspect of being a woman.

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