I Started Treating my Periods Like Monthly Miscarriages Because I Looooovvvvveeeee Drama!
Ladies, let’s not front! Periods are stressful, especially when you never know when they’re coming. Personally, my flow is erratic, heavy, and traumatic to all males who’ve been forced to see it. Nothing turns off my boyfriend quicker than a glance at my bare mattress. My tempur-pedic looks like a middle school girl’s worst nightmare; covered in giant blood stains in all different shades of red. Ouch!
And not to mention, my PMS makes me hardcore melancholy. I get seriously sad before my eggs drop, and man oh man, does no one care at all! It’s like, “Um, yeah, it’s your period… you’re a woman, this happens once a month… get over it, “ says everyone, especially the voices in my head, which are symptoms of the PMS itself! I think it’s safe to say that menstruation is a vicious cycle, pun intended. And heck, I’m not even allowed to be annoyed about it. God forbid I complain about it openly, lest I make a man uncomfortable. And goodness, complaining is one of my favorite things to do!
Thus, why call it a period when you can spice things up and claim that your flow is in fact the remnants of a fetus that COULD have been! I’m sorry, but who’s to say this month’s cramps aren’t pains stemming from the failures of your faulty fallopian tube, angry at its inability to capture your deadbeat boyfriend’s obviously defunct sperm. It’s NOT just that time of the month. It’s a zygotic nightmare, a gonadic massacre, a reproductive catastrophe. And god, now that your period is something worth complaining about, you’re free to get… dramatic. When you wake up in the morning in a pool of blood, you can rightfully scream out, “My babyyyyyy!!! Why??? We were going to be a family! And now, you’re nothing but a STAIN.” To really amp up the scene, take your bloody sheet and wrap your body in it while you cry. If someone walks in, you better believe they won’t forget the image. Heck, they might even cast you in their web series! Another great perk of disguising a period as a spontaneous abortion (that’s AP Bio talk for miscarriage) is the epic, oh so satisfying, public meltdown.
Now, when you go out in public, don’t be afraid to bleed out comfortably. Don’t waste money on tampons or pads when you can stain your white dress and shock the local passersby. An elderly woman on the bus will no doubt acknowledge you and whisper something politely in your ear like, “Excuse me dear, but I think you’ve got your period…” You can lock eyes with her and respond vociferously, “That’s not my period. That WAS my BABYYYYYY!” Take a look at the stain on your dress, crumple that section of fabric in your hands, and tear it off your frock for all the passengers to see. Fall to your knees and scream, “I’m BARRENNNNN!” Do not forget to violently keen. If you’re smart, you’ll ditch your waterproof mascara. Keep on crying and If you’re lucky, someone on the bus might cast you in their TV show!
Opportunities for dramatics are abundant when it come to fake miscarriages. You can always try crying in the shower as you bleed, weeping at the sight of a baby while you pack a tampon, or cursing your inhospitable uterus as you lay nude on a red towel. All will be great for your reel! And let’s get real, no matter how badly you’ve wanted to, there was never an excuse to pull psychotic stunts like these in response to your lame old regular flow. Societal standards are the worst. But now you’ve got the power to get maniacally menstrual at your disposal. Remember, that’s no regular exploded ovum, that there bloodstain was your first born BABYYYY!