Well the bleeding just started.
I am going to refrain from saying “thank you george for allowing me to make it through the work week before attacking me” and instead say:
I thank myself for treating my body right this week in preparing for menses to begin on time.
This is a first for me in terms of the way I view my body and its functions.
I’ve always viewed my menses as something external and terrible happening to me, not something that is a natural part of me because I was born female. Before menses, it was my pubic hair and my breasts that freaked me out and were bad things happening TO me. I have viewed the very things that make me female with such abhorrence since I hit puberty at age ten.
I remember liking pink and red as a child. I had several red and pink friendship pins. I remember picking out my favourite white dress with red hearts to wear for my fifth birthday party, and my favourite peach coloured dress to wear for sixth grade school photos. My favourite pen in middle school was a thin pink Jordache pen. And yet I was also a total tomboy from age five or six. I had more female friends than male friends but I’ve always identified more with males. I loved climbing trees and climbing on top of the garage at the first house I ever lived in. I loved throwing a racquetball my dad gave me onto the roof of that house and running to catch it in the baseball mitt the teenaged boy next door neighbor gave to me. I loved playing stick hockey with my brother and his friends in the creeks that froze over in the woods in the wintertime.
I loved playing with matchbox cars in the dirt and mud. I loved playing in the muddy rainwater that flooded our street each summer.
But when puberty hit at age ten, all I remember thinking was that the boys I was friends with at school would hate me now. I knew how they talked shit about the other girls. I considered myself one of the boys, and now I’d be betraying them. I sobbed and begged my mother to make the puberty stop happening. She had no idea how to react. I sat on the stairs to her bedroom and just sobbed.
Within days it was confirmed. My best friend Jack disowned me and began making fun of me, just like he and the other boys did to any girl who grew boobs or filled out in any way. At age ten, the opposite sex has cooties. That’s just how it goes.
That was pretty emotionally scarring for me, and so I’ve never forgiven my body for what it did to me.
So this now is a huge step for me – that I would correct my thinking mid-stream tonight when I saw the blood. With this change in verbiage, I have finally acknowledged that there is no asshole attacking me as an innocent. This is not some outside force happening to me. I’ve realised that my body is sick and has been for a very long time, and if there’s any asshole abounding, it’s my own Self – ME – if I don’t do everything in my power to avoid getting sicker.
SO, I thank my own Self for not drinking alcohol this week, for not eating cheetos or anything with MSG, corn syrup, caffeine and partially hydrogenated crap.
Although I did splurge on sugar a bit this week (On Sunday or Monday I baked a gluten free, yeast free cake and frosted it with non-hydrogenated, corn syrup free frosting), and although I also splurged on breads this week (gluten free, yeast free pizza crust, mmmm SO good), I am happy to report that I did not cause harm to my body intentionally like I normally do when PMSing.
It took a lot of courage this week to stand tall in the face of my PMS demands. I wanted chocolate. I wanted caffeine. More than caffeine itself, I wanted coffee. I wanted ice cream and milk shakes. I wanted Cheetos and that horrifying Fritos brand Jalapeño cheese dip (which I call nuclear cheese dip because of the neon colour of the cheese). These are all on my personal No Fly List, because over time, I have observed that the above have directly caused the pain to get worse right after ingestion while menstruating.
I also wanted red meat. I wanted hotdogs. I wanted ham and cheese sandwiches.
I held my courage and said no to this every time I was in the grocery store or near a place where the above could be obtained. I was good. I was strict. I am proud of myself.
I did all this so that my menstrual flow would begin on time, because I do not want to allow for the possibility of menses arriving early anytime before my wedding. I only have one good week leeway. If I am early next month, my wedding day the following month could be doomed. I can’t let that happen. I refuse to be bedridden for my own wedding. I refuse to be in pain on my wedding day. I refuse to be on painkillers on my wedding day.
I must take care of myself. I am taking care of myself.