Am I Normalizing the Trump Administration or Ovulating?


Having Donald Trump in the White House has pushed the limits of my patriotism. I’m still a proud American, but Christ, with each typo-ridden tweet attacking a valued ally, disabled person, or even his own staff, my internal American flag gets closer and closer to bursting into flame. When I woke up this morning to a tweet saying Trump wanted to make the moon double its size by 2019 using stray dogs as the rocket fuel, and Canada was going to pay for it, I had a moment of crisis. Usually, I would make a searing meme invoking ideology from Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr, or Bob Barker. But instead, I just watched videos of dogs in zero gravity. After the third collie caught a snack while floating, I had to ask myself, was I normalizing this administration, or was I simply ovulating?

It’s a difficult question to answer. I have a hormonal IUD, meaning I don’t get periods anymore, making it hard to know exactly when I’m ovulating. Most of the time it’s a fun little surprise, like finding a twenty in a pair of shorts, or a clean pair of socks on laundry day. Your skin clears up, you’re in a better mood generally. The weight of the patriarchy is just a little bit lighter for those three magical days of the month. Unfortunately, what use to be a pleasant surprise, is now a concerning sign of acquiescence to the most destructive Presidency of my lifetime.

While Bush or Obama was in the Oval Office, and my hormones were celebrating after another successful launch from my ova office, I could just sit back, relax, and slap on those pants I’m usually too self-conscious to wiggle into. But with Trump, egg-induced self-confidence is a luxury I can not afford. I need to be ready at all times to post in protest. What if he decides it’s time to mandate women only wear skirts, even when it’s clearly a jumpsuit occasion? I can’t be eating an ice cream cone in the park, enjoying the free serotonin my body lovingly delivers for just being a woman when Trump signs an executive order saying I need to dress like early 2000s Britney Spears or wear a scarlet EW.

Later in the day when Trump announced a ban on any candy that immigrant children might enjoy, I didn’t even feel an urge to find out who my congressperson was, march over to their headquarters, and put mayonnaise under their car door handle with a note in the windshield wipers saying “hey! All kids should be eating candy sicko!” No, instead I went to lunch with my friend and ordered two desserts. We ended up sharing them with a lovely couple at the table next to us. We’re all getting dinner together next week at IHOb.

What really concerned me was my complete indifference to Trump’s announcement that after being tricked into watching Fiddler on the Roof by Sheldon Adelson, he was going to instate matchmakers, with head matchmaker; Mike Pence. You know, that guy who calls the only person he has sex with mother. This called for serious action, responding to a DemWow mass text petition from spokesperson Stanley Tucci. But what did I do? I continued to procrastibake apricot scones and turned up the hit FX show Baskets.

I guess I’ll know in a day or two, whether this indifference to Trump’s madness is hormonal or ideological. I’m saddened to think this is what ovulating has come to, a quick reprieve from the administration’s baffling agenda. Why are we imposing a tariff on Mongolian skateboards? Who the fuck is John Bolton, I don’t want to have to know what is hiding in that mustache. I thought Mitch McConnell was a literal snapping turtle the Senate dressed up for fun, I didn’t know he could actually effect change. (Still not convinced he’s not a turtle. Just a very powerful one).

We use to have such good times, me and my eggs. We would watch romcoms and eat Ben and Jerry’s together, go for walks disregarding catcallers, make it through a coworker’s excruciating recap of Game of Thrones with a nod and a smile. Our time together has been reduced to the promise of three days without a tweet induced conniption. I miss ova and me time. So please, love your neighbor, register to vote, and spay and neuter your pets.

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