Bloody Tuesday

Forgive me. I realize that the title of this post is far too melodramatic for the trivial and gross nature of the actual topic…but I don’t care. In fact, said apathy leads me to wonder why I’m asking forgiveness at all. I don’t care if you forgive me. Quit reading my blog if you can’t deal with it.

And what’s the topic? Menstration. (Disclaimer: not for the faint of heart…this is going to be gross.) A Uterus. Thanks, Dr. Gray. It blows. Just in case you were wondering. It hurts. It smells bad. It’s inconvienient. It stains. It causes petulance. One would think it’s something they’d have figured out how to entirely do away with some time ago. As I understand it, a very large majority of women are afflicted with the wretched thing. Oh sure, it’s a pretty thought…we’re graceful, feminine, sweet smelling and soft. Our fertile wombs are a gift from God that have the potential to yeild a beautiful human life. Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but women can be just as unplesant as anything else…particularly when their innards are contorting themselves like chinese acrobats to expell a gooey lining of clotted and decaying blood. So with this glorious gift of fertility, we can bear children…and aren’t all children just automatically precious little angels that sit politely in the corner like porcelain dolls after a painless and effortless childbirth. NO! I’ve never experienced pregnancy or labor, but something gives me this sneaky little suspicion that it would cause me pain as I have never felt it before. (A misshap with a nurse practitioner during a pelvic exam a few years ago gave me a strong appreciation for how sensitive to pain that area of the body is.) Furthermore, children are anything but precious dolls. Thank goodness that they’re not. Kids are cute, I’ll concede to that. and I’m glad they have the potential to be joy-filled and animated. That does not, however, negate the fact that they also are entirely capable of being no less vile than the spawn of satan in behavior and temprement. Furthermore, a lot of the personality of a child relies on nurture. Many, many people are unfit parents or spoil their progeny to no end…the result is…well…demon spawn. But I suppose that’s a noble thing. After all, demons must reproduce, too.

So what was my point? Menstrating sucks. I suppose that’s about it. Thanks for reading.

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