Apr 26 2006
let’s talk about cramps, baby
There are several reasons why I enjoy being a girl. Shaving my legs, plucking my eyebrows, getting stabbed by wayward underwires, wearing tights. No, really. I love all those things. But the thing I love most? Cramps. Definitely. I know that it’s unfeminist of me to say negative things about the miraculous wonder that is menstruation, but everyone’s just going to have to be okay with that, because is there anything that’s good about the miraculous wonder that is menstruation? Not so much, really, no. I try to find the positives in the monthly experience of getting bloated, irritable, and bleeding uncontrollably from one of my orifices for seven days, but I can’t. Except for the manic chocolate eating, because I can’t find fault with that. And the cramps. Because didn’t I say I loved cramps? I mean, I love them in that “I hate them” sort of way, but that counts as love, right? Sure.
So, I’ve been thinking about cramps lately (I’m certain you can’t guess why), and I’ve come to the conclusion that if they’re necessary, then they ought to be celebrated. Because if I have to function in society on a daily basis and act like everything is normal while my uterus is committing mutiny, the least I can do is be happy about it. Since attitude is a decision and not a response and all.
I have a feeling this isn’t quite making sense. Let me try to clarify.
See, the world doesn’t stop when I have cramps. No, it continues on. And I have to get up and get dressed every morning and go to work and listen to people on the phone who JUST DON’T PAY ATTENTION and still be nice to them. I’m not allowed to yell at people for being irritating and I’m pretty sure that removing a shoe and throwing it directly at someone’s head would be a problem, as enjoyable and downright cathartic as it would be. I find this highly unfair, because really, why should we force ourselves to be things we’re not? Shouldn’t we remove the masks and be who we truly are? And if, say, we happen to be shoe-throwing shrews on occasion, then, well, so be it. I feel a tangential rant coming on, and I’m going to do my best to ignore it and move forward.
Okay. So. I have a proposal. I think that there should be a cramps clause in the law. And this cramps clause would make allowances for people who kill other people when they have cramps. You think killing people is extreme? Maybe it is. Maybe. But how about yelling at people for being stupid asshats? Or stapling things to other people’s heads? How about that? That’s not too bad, right? Right? Right? Come on. Can I get an amen? And if you are not giving me an amen, have you ever HAD cramps?
Sure, I know that we have Midol, but I really think it’s better to find an alternative to pumping our bodies full of chemicals. Like bitchslapping someone who is being smug and horrible. That’s healthy. I mean, it’s downright organic.
So, that’s my proposal for the celebration of the miraculous wonder that is menstruation. Think it over. Get excited. Together, we can change the world.
Thanks for reading. Goodnight.
i’m going to declare myself. Amen.
there’s also something i do (oh god, don’t let this be one of those snide ‘you should do what i do’ comments).
i do it.
and it’s all the fault of some slim woman named Ilsa or something like that who used to host a TV yoga show. i watched Ilsa when i was 9 or 10 or so and she has stuck with me for all the years of my life.
Ilsa showed me that at the first sign of cramps, you hurl yourself on the floor, on your belly. grab your ankles like a bizarre version of a crab and rock on your belly. Beware if you have hip bones - use a thick blanket.
You rock those cramps into lullabying you alone.
and you rock.
and i do.
If i cramp, no matter where i am, i am down like a flash doing my belly rock.
amen.
and i swear the unstapled heads, the unshouted blasts and the non-shoed foreheads all thank me.
so, yeah. cramps.
And it gets better, they get better. It might take childbirth or children birth, but there’s a future hint of cramp decline.
6 days and counting
Ugh. I hate it too. And I hate that there are all those people who are like “You should embrace your femininity and love your pl*centa and keep all of your feminine fluids in a little cup and feed it to your plants.” No you shouldn’t. That’s gross! And periods are gross. Stupid stupid periods. You should just live through it and have 3 happy weeks and then it starts all over again.
Anyway, it’s really weird that you’re blogging about this and Caryn is Flickring her Midol tablets and I… well, let’s not talk about it. But I’m wondering if you can synchronize your cycles on the Internet like you do when you live with a bunch of females. Because I suspect we’re synching up. For no reason. Forget I said anything, because I’m not… I don’t do gross things like have periods.
/denial
//crazy
///slashie!
Well… you know I’m a firm believer in the powers of Midol. That said, I’m also a firm believer in telling people to shut the fuck up and also a strong supporter of anything that stops annoying ass-monkeys. So, let’s cramp it up in style and heaven help anyone in the way.
ps: srah … we’re cramping you in!
Gah. Fuck that “embrace your feminity” bullshit. I don’t see guys raving about jock itch.
But just think … if we could synchronize our cycles over the internet, we could take over the world! Now THAT I can embrace. Mwahahaha!
Hey, wait eine kleine Nachtminute there Fräulein - jock itch is seriously underra -
OK, you’re right.
I don’t think there’s much I can safely say about this post.
Fucking estrogen.
Maybe we should work on internet-based cycle-synchronization, because — and I’ll be honest, here — I am really getting sick of not ruling the world.
get used to it
Used to it is not the issue.