The Period


Never before have I met someone with such a good working knowledge of menstruation than that of my current boyfriend. I’m going to put it down to the fact that he’s had a long term relationship, plus a few others before me, as opposed to him being a menophilliac.

I actually find his natural curiosity really quite impressive, although I do sometimes feel as though he knows my ovaries better than I know them myself. He has taught me everything from symmetrical faces and the rules of attraction during ovulation to the spots on my chin being a sign of things to come. I guess it’s just one more thing to add to the list of older men perks: an understanding of the female anatomy. But we already knew that one anyway…

For many blokes, however, this is not the case.

For instance, one guy at school, who i shan’t name and shame, once said: ‘I don’t get why girls moan so much. You just sit on the toilet, it comes out, and you’re done.”

I’m going to put this remarkable statement down to being young and immature but, if you know who he is and you’re still in contact with him, could you just make sure that after the ten years that have passed, he now knows that menstruating is not the same thing as taking a shit? In any way. At all. Ever.

Snowballing on from said blokes ideas about the female reproductive system, I’d like to clear up another assumption. It’s not like Noah’s bloody Ark crossed with The Shining when we’re on. Sometimes it does, in fact, feel like we are going to bleed to death (particularly on day two) but I can assure you, with some certainty, that we won’t. We may also be slightly cranky but no, we do not need you to tell us this. We may look a little paler and wear a hell of a lot more elasticated clothing; again, do not comment. We may leave tampons lying around that make you feel a bit uncomfortable and we may complain of swollen feet but FYI: asking me if I’m ‘on’, will lead me to ending your life – even if you do look like Ryan Gosling. Oh, and calling it ‘the blob’, is not okay. Ever.

Also, a far cry from when we’re ovulating and feeling like we are the most attractive thing on the planet, craving a child and wanting to eat the universe, we couldn’t feel less attractive when we have a piece of cotton stuffed up our vaginas or a nappy strapped to our pants. We feel fat and spotty, our tummies are sore and what IS it about being one HUNDRED degrees? So please do not tell me that ‘you don’t mind’ and try to have sex with me. Instead, remember that reaching for a hot water bottle or getting us a pack of Maltesers from the shop-for that moment in time- is better than a diamond ring or a Marc Jacobs purse.

I, for one, have no qualms about holding my hands up to the fact that I am a complete and utter biatch in the week leading up to my period but when I, or a woman you love, gets a little too much during her time of the month, just imagine this: bleeding. from. your penis.

Yep, that should put things into perspective.

Now I have a question for you: what the fuck is a moon cup?

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