I’ve long accepted the fact that there are some things I might never understand. Like, Microbiology or why in the world those girls in Always ads are so fucking happy. Do these people have any idea what periods are like?
Anyway, here’s a table of things I need/want on my period. A Periodic table.
(Yup, this is the post that the thugs skip.)
All I want is to be hugged and swaddled like an overpriced Java chicken fajita wrap.
For the record, platonic cuddles are also acknowledged.
Or any other potent modern-day painkiller, if we’re being “practical”.
Some gyalrasta prescribed to me a likkle beige pill called Ponstan and it was life-changing: completely revolutionary. I’ve never looked back.
I’m always swamped doing assignments, lab reports or Buzzfeed quizzes. Being locked down in bed makes you finally open that book you bought right after that one you got and haven’t read either.
Also, people reading to me is a love language. And since all my mental energy at this point is going into reminding me how being a girl sucks , I’d pick something easy like “Roald Dahl’s Revolting Rhymes” or “Politically Correct Bedtime Stories” if I were you.
I don’t know, there’s something about a pale-gold lager that always cheers me up.
Also, there is no way I’m setting myself up for a hangover, with my fickle pain tolerance, by drinking anything too strong.
(Oh, also, pro-tip: Beetroot gives you back all the iron you be losing.)
I know I tell everyone I have big dreams but deep down all I want is a lifetime supply of back rubs and Oreos.
It only takes a slice of Tricolad to keep away dementors.
Chocolate Fudge Cake is the closest thing we might get to the Wizarding World’s Chocolate Frogs. And somehow, they both lessen the pain.
Dark chocolate, especially, is also fundamental/appreciated.
All I’m saying is platonic nudes are a significant hallmark of true friendship. So, if you wanna be helpful, you know.
Pads, tampons. Whatever floats your boat. Whatever sprinkles your donut.
I should get donuts too.
I don’t like flowers, except for sunflowers. Probably just cause they’re yellow. But yes, sunflowers would make me a little bit less cranky. Like that (apocryphal) story of Van Gogh eating yellow paint to make him happy, you know?
Because shows like Master of None and BoJack Horseman are sometimes the core of my entire happiness.
Admittedly, sleep isn’t the first thing on my mind. Lol jk, I’m in school, sleep is always the first thing on my mind. Napping is a major key, as long as you can get past the pain. And when I can’t get myself to sleep, I keep reloading all my social media timelines: learning new recipes I’ll never try and liking shots that are just pure art.
Yes, like Magnesium.
Preferably from dark chocolate (uh-huh, again), vanilla yoghurt and/or avocados.
Especially these really short albums/EPs (< 30 minutes) like Noname’s Telefone and Syd’s Always Never Home. Ah.
My raging hormones will obvs need a playlist with love moguls à la Daniel Caesar and Frank Ocean.
And then, a gangsta playlist to fight said raging hormones with Nas and Kendrick.
And so many other playlists and singles and LPs and EPs.
The first day of class, the program director told us that we could miss class as long as we could prove we were sick and that the ‘frail’ excuse of killer cramps would never be considered a real issue.
So yes, I know I know, we live in a misogynistic world. But this is a semi-fictional post with a bunch of crazy suggestions that may never be taken seriously and getting sick leaves is one of them.
Don’t get it twisted though. I’m still going to sit through class and learn Nuclear Chemistry even though my belly feels like Chernobyl ’86.
Because somehow reading poetry is always able to heal broken hearts and self-destructing uteri.
I’ll admit that 99.9% of the time I want company, but there’s that sudden outburst where I want everyone to Leave Me Alone and everything has the potential to Drive Me Crazy.
I can’t possibly count the number of times I’ve watched reruns of movies like Casablanca and It’s a Wonderful Life because I was stuck in my bed.
This sounds hella NewAge-y but, lighting incense unfrays my nerves.
Here’s where I’m probably supposed to send a ‘shalom’ to all my fellow Alchemist goers.
For the culture, y’know.
(I really can’t wait to have the Lime one!)
I don’t understand how we can even walk when even existing feels like torture. But moving around helps, especially after the 1st day. I get up, and do yoga and work out, I make my room, I go to school, I go get cake. Life shouldn’t stop because your body is bawlin’ over the fact that you’re not pregnant.
But really, why God why God do I gotta bleed?