Periods, cats and Netflix.

There are many secrets women keep from men, mainly for their own protection. That is basically because men don’t want to know how we get the patch at the back of our knees shaved. Now I think about it, if men knew what kind of positions we got into to shave ourselves, they’d demand kinkier sex.

Teenage boys tend to have issues with periods, I’m not sure why, probably because even women who have them sometimes think they’re gross. Periods are gross. And annoying. But when men get older they start to learn that they’re a natural part of life. We can’t control them, except with certain birth control, but we certainly can’t control the hormones that come with them. Sometimes we’ll want to cry, scream, laugh, throw things, create or destroy; periods are funny that way.

Anyone who has any understanding of how periods work, and more importantly, what they’re for, will know that a woman can wake up on the day she’s due on and be fine, but the time she’s eaten breakfast, she could be laughing hysterically or crying in a ball. That’s if she’s not curled up on the floor trying not to scream with pain, trying to push her womb through her back, just to stop the pain.

On the rag, fallen to the communists and having the painters in. All of these things are the same thing. Once a month (-ish) after a woman’s womb has finished layering up and coating itself in blood and flesh only to discover that no egg will be planted this month, oop, time to shred down and get ready for another month. Thus begins the bleeding, pain, resentment and confusion. Also, time for ice cream, chocolate, warm clothes, hot water bottles and movies. Alongside the raging hormones and screaming pain is the annoyance of no white trousers or skirts, no see-through underwear, the feeling of constant food baby for a week and broken sleep. Oh, and don’t forget the blood. Lots and lots of blood. And lumps. Maybe that’s why teenage boys find them so gross.
For the boys at this point, your girlfriend/sister/mum/aunt/classmate needs to have their periods. Just like you need to have wet dreams and sudden bursts of hormones, it’s kind of an equal deal. Except your wet dreams don’t happen like clockwork every month on the clock and they tend to die down, not happen on cue from age 13 to age 65, every month, on average. Can you see why women get ratty with them and start to look forward to pregnancy or menopause now?

Oh, and sex goes out the window. Unless you have an understanding partner anyway. Which possibly wouldn’t matter unless you have a high sex drive anyway (coughs) but at random points in said period, the female body suddenly realizes that eggs are being released and need to be fertilised thus our brains start flooding our whole system with ‘get laid now’ hormones. Mother Nature at her finest. “Hey, I notice you’re bleeding, feel bloated, fat, unsexy and violent, you should probably go and find someone to do unpleasant things to or with.” Thanks Mother, I needed that right now. Which leads to buying an enormous amount of extra toys and cleaning products getting ready for the inevitable flush of hormones.

Which is why I’m currently sat on my sofa, hugging a hot water bottle, writing more of my book (which is now almost half way done, by the way, for you budding fans out there!) watching ‘iZombie’ on Netflix, simultaneously pulling the cats in for love and pushing them away because their fur hurts my skin.


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