Saturday, November 22, 2008

Blood Stories

I've been in a bad mood for two days straight. This fucking Moon Cycle tea has really screwed with my hormones and although I feel better premenstrually, I've been quite snippy around the house, taking my frustrations out on the one I love. We had a great day today up until I threw a hissy fit about nonsense. I suppose men really don't understand when normal behavior is tossed aside, allowing the hormones to kick into overdrive. As for myself, I honestly have no control over my emotions the days leading up to the bloody purge. I'm half beside myself and half in the bag. I feel like a guilty vegan who just devoured a huge piece of bloody steak. The guilt is overwhelming, yet somewhat satisfying. I'm not really sure why but I'm sure I'll figure that out after I finish the cycle. I didn't drink any tonic today for fear I'll never get my period. What happens then? Is it over forever or will it take years of all this moodiness, night sweats, hot flashes and topsy turvey mood swings to rid myself of this clotty mess. Right now, I just wish it would come. Do I have to romance it out of me or take it on a date? Where are you my friend???? Come out and play wherever you are.

I remember when I was a little kid, around 14, and I was complaining to my mother that I hated having my period and wearing bras. I didn't like being a girl at that age because I was a tomboy and honestly, those pads interfered with my good time. It really ruined my Poison Ball games and I was paranoid constantly that I had blood on my shorts. Thus, my love for black everything! My wise mother agreed with me whole heartily, but she also reminded me that in years to come, my period would bring me wisdom, help me tolerate pain better and allow me to have children of my own one day. I suppose she was right although the last one never came to fruition. Such is life. Tears have been shed. Regrets notated. Empty spaces within.

When I was 16 and didn't get my period, I wasn't worried. I had nothing to worry about. I wasn't a "bad girl." I was a VIRGIN at 16, like 16 year old girls should be and knew there was no way I was pregnant. I was really late and physically felt like shit, so my caring mother drew a warm bath, poured me a huge glass of red wine (I'm Italian people...don't get your tail feathers in a ruffle because my mum gave me alcohol) and told me to soak. I sipped and soaked in my big, white porcelain tub, surrounded by brown marbled tiles with gold flecks. I spent an hour in that bathroom, relaxing and listening to a slightly warped tape of Madonna on my brother Tommy's old Radio Shack tape recorder. I remember it had a shit brown button on it with a brown metallic speaker that smelled weird. After I dried off and put my pajamas on, I said my good nights and headed for bed. That night, I fell into a deep sleep and when I woke, I was greeted by a small pool of blood that had formed on my sheets. She was right AGAIN! I kept wondering if I would ever be so smart or if I could ever be what she was to savior. After cleaning up the mess and changing my night clothes, I walked out into the kitchen, half smiling, gripping my lower abdomen in pain and noticing my mother watching me. She never said a word but through our eyes, we understood each other. We were simpatico.

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