Look at her; she's so on Demerol for cramps.
who here has seen the movie version of Bye-Bye Birdie?
the one with the red-haired, child vixen, Ann-Margret?
remember the scene when she sashays around her bedroom in a pointy little bra singing this insipid little tune?
How lovely to be a woman,
The wait was well worth while;
How lovely to wear mascara
And smile a woman's smile.
How lovely to have a figure,
That's round instead of flat;
Whenever you hear boys whistle,
You're what they're whistling at.
It's wonderful to feel
The way a woman feels;
It gives you such a glow just to know
You're wearing lipstick and heels!
What?!?
no offense, boys, but only a man could have written a song like this.
why?
because clearly, the person who wrote this
never.
experienced.
menstruation.
and, i wonder, is it a coincidence, that something that causes us such PAIN has the word MEN in it? eh? huh? MENstruation? I ASK YOU?!?!
ahem.
sorry, i'm a wee bit sensitive today.
IT has come. the IT. the IT that creeps into my body and holds it hostage for 4-7 days, pins me down and beats my abdomen until i cry for mercy. its chipper little sidekick, the zit fairy, comes and sprinkles me with breakout dust blessing me with a veritable constellation o' acne. AND, god forbid i should partake of any asian cuisine during this time b/c if i do, the soy sauce will incur such wrath upon my body that i will bloat to twice my size. longshoremen have been known to mistake me for a buoy.
but yeah...how lovely to be a woman.
there are a a whole slew of words for IT. period. aunt flo. the curse. big red. check out The Museum of Menstruation (who knew?) for a huge listing, some far grosser than others. (i'm sorry. i just can't call it "cherry topping" - would ruin all future family picnics. dessert, after all, is often the best part.)
for whatever reason, my friends and i decided to call it "george" in junior high. i think it eventually became "my cousin george is in town visiting." i wonder if the 8th grade boys ever thought it strange that all of us girls had a cousin named george, and he visited every single one of us monthly. doubt it. sweet, young, daft things. they didn't really want to know about - whisper - these things. they still don't, do they? any mention of "that time of the month" and most men just clam right on up.
i sorta understand their discomfort. i mean, we're all taught that it's something dirty and gross and inappropriate. i'm ashamed to admit that it's only within the past few years that i'm finally comfortable going into duane reade and just purchasing tampons. for years i played a little game with myself:
if i buy just one other item, it'll distract the fresh-faced teenaged clerk from the fact that i'm buying tampons.
god forbid the folks at the drugstore know i was on my period. as if, the guy ringing me up would be fooled by my decoy purchase:
of course! she came in here specifically to buy that 25 cent pack of gum, the super economy-size box of fresh scent tampons are just an impulse buy.
so, yes, i do understand their discomfort.
but just for fun...
you're w/ a big group of boy-men and you need to get their attention. you try to be polite, you try to interrupt like jackie-o might, with white gloves and an affected french accent, but to no avail. they are rendered deaf and dumb by the big-kahuna wave of testosterone they're surfing, and you, plankton-estrogen-girl, cannot get their attention. try this: reach into your purse and grab a feminine hygiene product (any feminine hygiene product will do, but a tampon promises to get a far more entertaining response) and just toss it into the most conspicuous place in the room.
crickets.
you, milady, have the floor.
now, if you find yourself without proper supplies, simply shouting TAMPON! UTERUS! OVARY! VAGINA! will have similar effects. try experimenting. shout only one word and resume your regular conversation or, if you have the energy, you can go for the tourette's version by spewing out all of them in a frenzied litany.
and yes, it's kinda mean, it's kinda snarky, but when they look at you in disgust, just shrug your shoulders and purr a la ann-margret, "don't blame me, aunt flo made me do it."look at her;
the one with the red-haired, child vixen, Ann-Margret?
remember the scene when she sashays around her bedroom in a pointy little bra singing this insipid little tune?
How lovely to be a woman,
The wait was well worth while;
How lovely to wear mascara
And smile a woman's smile.
How lovely to have a figure,
That's round instead of flat;
Whenever you hear boys whistle,
You're what they're whistling at.
It's wonderful to feel
The way a woman feels;
It gives you such a glow just to know
You're wearing lipstick and heels!
What?!?
no offense, boys, but only a man could have written a song like this.
why?
because clearly, the person who wrote this
never.
experienced.
menstruation.
and, i wonder, is it a coincidence, that something that causes us such PAIN has the word MEN in it? eh? huh? MENstruation? I ASK YOU?!?!
ahem.
sorry, i'm a wee bit sensitive today.
IT has come. the IT. the IT that creeps into my body and holds it hostage for 4-7 days, pins me down and beats my abdomen until i cry for mercy. its chipper little sidekick, the zit fairy, comes and sprinkles me with breakout dust blessing me with a veritable constellation o' acne. AND, god forbid i should partake of any asian cuisine during this time b/c if i do, the soy sauce will incur such wrath upon my body that i will bloat to twice my size. longshoremen have been known to mistake me for a buoy.
but yeah...how lovely to be a woman.
there are a a whole slew of words for IT. period. aunt flo. the curse. big red. check out The Museum of Menstruation (who knew?) for a huge listing, some far grosser than others. (i'm sorry. i just can't call it "cherry topping" - would ruin all future family picnics. dessert, after all, is often the best part.)
for whatever reason, my friends and i decided to call it "george" in junior high. i think it eventually became "my cousin george is in town visiting." i wonder if the 8th grade boys ever thought it strange that all of us girls had a cousin named george, and he visited every single one of us monthly. doubt it. sweet, young, daft things. they didn't really want to know about - whisper - these things. they still don't, do they? any mention of "that time of the month" and most men just clam right on up.
i sorta understand their discomfort. i mean, we're all taught that it's something dirty and gross and inappropriate. i'm ashamed to admit that it's only within the past few years that i'm finally comfortable going into duane reade and just purchasing tampons. for years i played a little game with myself:
if i buy just one other item, it'll distract the fresh-faced teenaged clerk from the fact that i'm buying tampons.
god forbid the folks at the drugstore know i was on my period. as if, the guy ringing me up would be fooled by my decoy purchase:
of course! she came in here specifically to buy that 25 cent pack of gum, the super economy-size box of fresh scent tampons are just an impulse buy.
so, yes, i do understand their discomfort.
but just for fun...
you're w/ a big group of boy-men and you need to get their attention. you try to be polite, you try to interrupt like jackie-o might, with white gloves and an affected french accent, but to no avail. they are rendered deaf and dumb by the big-kahuna wave of testosterone they're surfing, and you, plankton-estrogen-girl, cannot get their attention. try this: reach into your purse and grab a feminine hygiene product (any feminine hygiene product will do, but a tampon promises to get a far more entertaining response) and just toss it into the most conspicuous place in the room.
crickets.
you, milady, have the floor.
now, if you find yourself without proper supplies, simply shouting TAMPON! UTERUS! OVARY! VAGINA! will have similar effects. try experimenting. shout only one word and resume your regular conversation or, if you have the energy, you can go for the tourette's version by spewing out all of them in a frenzied litany.
and yes, it's kinda mean, it's kinda snarky, but when they look at you in disgust, just shrug your shoulders and purr a la ann-margret, "don't blame me, aunt flo made me do it."look at her;
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