Shark Week

Before you read this, just know that this post is about periods and might be a bit graphic. Shark Week is the term that Jessie and I call periods since a shark's brain looks like a uterus.

So it's that' time of the month again, the week where my uterus figuratively announces that I am, in fact, not pregnant.

See, I wouldn't mind my period as much if it wasn't so damn heavy. My hormones find the need to express the fact that I don't have a baby in my vag in a thick, red waterfall that flows at the speed of light to annihilate any chance of normal body function for a week.

It's like that annoying kid in your class that's always too eager to give an answer. The rest of the class gets pissed at him and is disrupted by his annoying behavior. My vagina is that annoying kid and the other classmates are my other internal organs and body parts. And then my vagina tells my body what it can and can't do this week. "YOU WILL NOT RUN FASTER THAN -28 MPH!" "FEELING PLEASANT IS FORBIDDEN!" "FOOD TASTES LIKE POOP!" "YOU MAY NOT HAVE A GOOD WEEK!!!"

If that weren't enough,  for the duration of Shark Week, I feel insecure. Blood is rushing out my vag like a fire hose and my body feels like shit. I don't fucking feel like getting a lecture from my dad about the appropriate amount of toilet paper to use. One time, he demonstrated the length of toilet paper by tearing off six sheets of one-ply. Sorry, Dad, but that is never going to be enough. If I use six sheets of one ply, that length of toilet paper will get lost. In my vagina. I will never see those six sheets of one-ply ever again. I think my dad forgets that there is more surface area to a vag than what you can see with the naked eye (HAHA SEEWHATIDIDTHERE?) It's like the inner fold of the mitochondria; it's a GODDAMN MAZE. Secondly, there is blood squirting from my uterus and I'm gonna need a shitload more toilet paper to mop that mess up. You wanna know the correct amount of toilet paper to be used? Wrap your hand like a fucking catcher's mitt, or a mummy trying to bundle up for his trip to Antarctica in the dead of winter. THAT'S how much toilet paper I need.

And then sumetimes it DOESN'T FUCKING FLUSH DOWN THE DAMN TOILET!! As I'm flushing it down, I pray to God it goes down all the way, or at least down the pipes so I don't have to fight my way through soggy, bloody toilet paper to properly use the plunger.

Bleeding from the vagina SUCKS.
Happy fucking Shark Week.