Hey ladies.
It's me, Andie.
Duh.
I'm comin' to you live from my favorite Starbucks (when am I not?), sipping on this masterpiece...
... and getting ready to talk to you about something pretty serious. And not to be taken lightly. Because I think you can perhaps relate.
Do you find yourself struggling with...
... chronic fatigue?
... headaches?
... backaches?
... muscle tension?
... changes in appetite?
... loss of focus?
... lack of interest in usual activities?
... intense shift in mood?
... rapid change in weight?
... overall malaise?
... inexplicable sadness?
... nearly unbearable abdominal pain?
... observable psychosis?
Then visit your doctor couch ASAP, because you may be experiencing imminent death WOMANHOOD.
Or more specifically, your friend and mine, that unwelcome B!@#% Aunt Flow.
Never invited. Always imposing. The Queen of overstayed welcomes.
Yikes, yikes, yikes.
Why must we go there? You might ask. Well here's why: Because this is a blog about anxiety and reality and struggles and this is a real-life, anxiety-producing, monthly mega-struggle! That's why!!! What kind of a question is that anyway??? WHEW. Sorry. But you see, I have strong feelings about this. Because she-who-must-not-be-named (the uterus... call it what you want... Voldemort aka Slytherin aka Bellatrix aka Death Eater aka Horcrux aka WhoreCrux... too much on that last one?) puts us through a lot of misery. Every. Single. Month. And I know this whole process is sometimes taken as a joke or described as "gross" or just generally taboo to talk openly about, but I think that's stupid. Well I don't just THINK it's stupid. It IS stupid. Because we don't deserve to feel like a joke or gross or taboo. I didn't choose to be a female. It chose me. And I sure as H-E-double-tampons didn't choose to have a period. Because absolutely no woman in her right mind would. But here's the thing: Without these hellacious processes, absolutely none of us would exist. So I mean, you're welcome. Ok, ok, that's taking it a bit too far. I didn't invent it. But I think you know what I'm saying. I'm not a leper. I'm not gross. I'm not psychotic (though it's debatable... more on that in a sec). But every month, I feel as though I am. I feel sick. I feel sad. I feel zitty. I feel like I've gained 30lbs over night. I feel awful. Does this sound familiar, ladies? This ain't no joke!
Without fail, every single month - let me repeat... EVERY SINGLE MONTH - I feel like a crazy person. We've all been there. Guys too. Just feeling a little off. More irritable than usual. Perceiving everything as a big deal or worthy of a melt-down. For some people (like me) it happens when we haven't eaten recently enough. Hangry, as we've talked about before. But this is a different brand. Here's the usual timeline: One week before Aunt Flow comes a-knockin' - TIRED. MUSCLES HURT. WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I NEED A NAP EVERY HOUR?? A few days before - TEARS ON TEARS ON TEARS. God help me and anyone around me if something upsetting happens about 48ish hours before the eagle has landed. Things are gonna get teary. And why is everyone so annoying?? How dare that woman at the grocery store cut me off?! How dare my coworker ask me if I'm crabby today?! Why is that man driving 25 miles per hour on a busy arterial?! But more importantly, WHY DO I WANT TO KILL ALL OF THEM?! And then the anxiety sets in. "Oh my gosh I was so mean to that woman at the grocery store. What if she was really hurt by that face I gave her?" "My coworker was just joking and I totally bit her head off... she's going to hate me now!" "That poor man was just being cautious. Why did I wave my hands at him in obvious road rage? I feel terrible." Tears on tears on tears. Touching Hallmark commercial - tears. Nice email from a volunteer - tears. I AM CRAZY! And the most remarkable part of it is, when all of this madness sets in every month, I never EVER think, "Hey Andie, go easy on yourself. You know what's right around the corner... all of this is to be expected. Now go take a walk. A nap. A Xanax [kidding]." The point is, never underestimate the power of she-who-must-not-be-named. She means well. She's just doing her job. But the havoc she wreaks is enough to transform an ordinary woman into Cruella DeVil in no time flat. And it doesn't mean we're crazy. Or gross. Or over the cuckoo's nest. It just means we're healthy. That our bodies are functioning properly. That someday we might be able to bring new life into the world. Holy smokes, that's awesome. So next time you're a big mess of anxiety and tears and inexplicable sadness and feeling obese and disgusting and zitty, don't forget to check yourself before you wreck yourself (or your car/computer/someone around you) and think about whether Aunt Flow might be to blame.
Also, don't mess around with abnormalities. With any of your lady parts. Get regular exams, don't ignore strange symptoms, and remember you have nothing to be ashamed of. Ok, PSA over. Not to be confused with PMS. BA-DUM-CHHHHHHH!
And another thing: Speaking of PMS, here's a word to the wise. Nobody - and I mean nobody - is allowed to blame my moodiness/sensitivity/anger/emotions on PMS but ME. Asking a woman if she's PMSing is a first class ticket on the RAGE EXPRESS. For me anyway. I can't speak for anyone else. I'm just trying to help you avoid the wrath.
And finally, there's this:
Hilarious! Except don't order your period care packages from Hello Flo. Instead visit www.ThePeriodStore.com and order your monthly dose of sanity-savers from them! One of the founders is a dear friend of my dear friend Russanne, and their genius deserves your business! Your lady business... I'm on a roll!
And now I leave you with three simple words of advice: ThermaCare heat wraps. You can thank me later.
Seeya!
Today's Jam: "Latch" by Disclosure
Because there are few ailments that a dance break can't cure.
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