but seriously. It SUCKS to be a woman. SUCKSSSSSzzzSSS. My boobs have been sore for the past two weeks, I’m so fucking bloated my pants don’t fit, last night I straight-up flipped on katsumi because he bought a pizza (when I had already heated up soup for dinner), and then I woke up at 5am to waves of blistering agony emanating from my midsection. I dragged myself out of bed, staggered to the bathroom, swallowed half a bottle of ibuprofen and taped a heating pad to my gut, chanting to myself “at least this means you’re not pregnant at least this means you’re not pregnant”. I don’t know what time the meds kicked in, but I had time to come up with some very colorful ways to describe the miracle of the female cycle:

a rabid, feral hedgehog trying to claw its way out of your intestinal tract

like, you’re pregnant, but the fetus is made up of radioactive plutonium, and it’s melting your flesh from the inside

god is trying to push a red-hot poker through your spinal column

a garbage disposal with a spoon stuck inside, but inverted.

I did have one vicodin, but damned if I was gonna take that and then just go to sleep, so I lay awake, thinking of comparable phrases and wondering if 27 is too young for a hysterectomy. Probably the answer is yes, but sometimes, man, I just don’t know.

I’m flying to DC tonight to visit my sister, but NABLOPOMO or whatever will still be in effect. Hungover and weak, but in effect nonetheless.