An open letter to my period

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First of all how dare you?

While some may refer to you as a friend or even a visiting aunt, to me you are the worst kind of guest. You show up, often with little notice, and ruin my plans, sex life and more clothing than I care to think about.

You also are a pain-literally. You come with cramps and back pain and a general feeling of garbage. While I will admit, there has been a time or two I was overjoyed at your arrival, more often than not my reaction ranges from mildly annoyed disbelief to full-fledged moody bitch-mode.

Can you blame me?

I have literally spent twenty years carrying pads and tampons around like they are some dirty secret hidden in my purse while wondering why I can’t seem to get the hang of wearing white shorts and playing volleyball on my period like the girls on the commercials.

Instead it seems I have to adopt an uniform of black yoga pants, granny panties and hot water bottles.  I spent my youth hiding the fact that I menstruate from classmates, siblings and boyfriends, but now I have a much bigger challenge.

I have to hide it from my daughters.

I should say that while having your period in a normal, natural thing for a healthy woman; I just can’t bear to break the fact to my daughters that they will be getting this ‘blessing’ for the better part of their adult lives. Keeping these girls in the dark isn’t easy. Not only does my lady friend leave my bathroom looking like a murder scene more often than not, but my girls aren’t too keen on giving me privacy. The fact that they haven’t yet been scarred for life is a true testament to my cat-like reflex skills and ability to scare off my young.

While the day is drawing nearer that I will have to break this fact of life to my oldest, for now I will continue to enjoy the one perk of this monthly curse.

I get a week of track pants wearing, chocolate eating, moodiness, ‘don’t you dare mess with these hormones’.

That is until the hot flashes start to kick in.

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