Ohhhd To My Biweekly Visit. Period.
Perimenopause. That's what this post is about. So, if you're a guy, and you want to skip it, I don't blame you. Go here instead, for a great manly post about male genitalia that's sure to tickle your fancy, put a smile on your face and a banana in your pocket.
I had to look up "biweekly" because, ever since I was an innocent young girl, I would always confuse "biweekly" with "semi-weekly" and with "bimonthly". You know, they more or less mean the same thing, depending on who you talk to. So, I decided to only speak to people who were in total agreement with me about "biweekly" meaning "every two weeks", not "twice a week", because, in the context of this post, twice a week would be waaay too much for me to handle.
So, now that we've decidedly defined our terms, let's move on, shall we?
Let's just say I have been, for the past four to five months (although it seems more like three lifetimes), having my period every two weeks instead of the more regularly acceptable monthly version. Wait a minute! Backspace and erase that. The monthly version of a woman's period is not really acceptable either. Let's just say it's barely tolerated, and if it weren't for the fact that it's a necessary evil in order for us to be able to bear those annoying, yet adorable children of ours, I am sure most humans of the female species, given the choice, would let men take care of the monthly business instead.
Now, once a month is okay, as long as it's not overly painful and draining, which it most often is, so usually that means once a month is obviously anything but okay... but every two weeks?! Come on, Mother Nature. Let's be real. Who in heaven's name wants to deal with this every second week, twice a month?! No one, that's who. Not even The Goddess.
On my weeks "off", I am trying to recapture my energy that was completely drained from me the week before. However, that only lasts a couple of days, really, because the cycle starts all over again soon after that, with the draining fatigue, the extreme abdominal pain and bloating, the dread, the lack of sleep, the migraine headaches. I've barely had the energy to watch Dog The Bounty Hunter and eat my supersized bag of Cheetos. I know, hard to believe, but very true.
I just came back from the Superstore to stock up on my quickly dwindling supply of sanitary napkins. Of course, I need an assortment of sizes and shapes, from maxi and super absorbent, to extra long, nighttime pads, to daily, "keep fresh" pads, depending on my time of the week, obviously.
I spent $50 on pads. Fifty dollars. 5-0. That should take me to next week.
I'm thinking of coming up with a pad that lasts a week. Kind of like disposable contact lenses, but maybe not as dainty.
Especially with the mean age of society progressing as it is ... more and more women are obviously reaching the ripe old age of perimenopause with a vengeance. Come on politicians! Let's be proactive for a change! Give us perimenopausal and cranky women a break already!
I would say it's akin to financially helping new mothers take maternity leave to take care of their babies. Except this is the other end of the cycle really. Is that too much to ask?
And if you are hastening to disagree, just remember what could very well happen were I to run out of said sanitary napkins and not be able to afford another package until two cycles from now... that's right. Then it wouldn't be just my problem, would it... Oh, changing your tune now, are you?