In frank and open theft of Womanist Musings‘s idea, I am hereby announcing to the blogger world that I started my period yesterday. I am menstruating, getting a visit from Aunt Flo (oh how I hate that one), riding the red tide, heading to the red tent, and suffering Eve’s curse (mmm, more misogyny). I am, indeed, bleeding nigh unto death from my vagina — or maybe it just feels like it. Either way, I am on the rag; which is actually an accurate colloquialism in this case, since I use cloth pads I made myself.
Why do you want to know this? Ok, you probably don’t. But why not? Is our cultural avoidance of discussing menstruation simply out of respect for privacy? Part of our overall avoidance of discussing things involving fluid and the body? (Although apparently the state of one’s cervix nine months after one fails to menstruate is fair game for everyone from your brother in law to the grocery clerk.) Or is it part of our misogynistic disgust with the female form, hatred rooted in envy of our power of procreation?
Or maybe no one wants to risk pissing off the already pissy chick with the bleeding pussy?
Regardless, I dislike the silence, the taboo. And so I’m breaking it.
This is my ninth menstruation since the 14 months of lactational amenorrhea the child and chance and round the clock nursing blessed me with. It is the first full cycle we have tried charting for pregnancy avoidance. (I say tried because it doesn’t work so well when the child steals the basal body thermometer and loses it inside the house… somewhere… and eventually a new one is purchased, generic because that’s all they had under $60 and who the hell spends $60 on a damn thermometer?, that works like absolute shite — I am not sticking that piece of plastic in my mouth for FIVE MINUTES; if I wanted to do that I’d just buy a freaking glass one — and the old one finally found, only to have discovered that somewhere in that week of wonky or no charting, you appear to have ovulated. Probably. Which is not the certainty I for one am looking for in my pregnancy avoidance method.) We’ve been meaning to for, well, all of the postpartum cycles, but just didn’t get around to it. Needless to say, this cycle didn’t exactly meet all the requirements for successful, safe condom-free nookie.
But that’s OK, since the Boychick has also decided this month to fall asleep most nights by talking to himself. For an hour. Or two. I really wasn’t worried about not getting my period this month, for the same reason a virgin generally isn’t.
But still. Isn’t it nice to know it’s here?
