Twitter currently has a #livetweetyourperiod hashtag and I won’t deny I’ve used it twice, which is quite poor when you consider it. I don’t feel my periods are exciting enough to fully utilise the tag, though I won’t deny I’ve been enjoying the comfort I’ve been affording myself during Shark Week.
I spent most of the weekend alone which is something that happens rarely but is becoming more frequent. My husband is going on the road for work so I’m having to get used to the sleeping and living on my own for short bursts. It’s not a big deal in itself, in fact I love my own space and the opportunity to mainline Gilmore Girls and the very worst in horror movies all day, but it feels weird.
Next time I shall saturate my time with things to do and people to see but frankly I was hung over as fuck on Saturday and couldn’t be bothered to call anyone. So I ate Chinese food all day and slept and it was great. In bed I rested my hands on my bloated belly and that was really soothing. My period bloat baby.
This month has been horrific though. I’ve felt so weak and drained. It makes me think of vampires sometimes, like this must be how it feels to be sucked dry by Edward Cullen or Count Dracula (oo-er). If that was a plausible scenario of course. I don’t know, I’ve always been more of a Werewolf gal.
Can we talk about emotions for a moment? Why was my chin wobbling yesterday lunchtime as I sat on a bench trying (and failing) to take a Pokemon gym? Why did I have a sudden wave of inertia, a flash of hopelessness over all that I stand for and all the mistakes I have ever made?
Anywhooo. I’m bleeding and I’m bloated and I’m grouchy and tearful – and none of that is new. I’m riding this one out the best way I know how. In fresh pyjamas and fluffy socks, with Rory and Lorelai by my side and chocolate on tap.
I will survive!