Monthly Visitor

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"New Girl" said it best in the "Menzies" episode.

“New Girl” said it best in the “Menzies” episode.

We all have a name for our periods. I most recently decided to name mine, “The Troll”. Why? Because, as the lovely cost of being a woman, we have to pay a toll each month and suffer the ordeal of discomfort, the bloats, stuffing our faces, feeling quite less than desirable. I personally tend to bloat up and feel like a blubber-filled pregnant sea lion, flubbing about the beach in search of fish and other divine seaside treats with which to gorge on, following by a good basking in the sun. (Perhaps she is my spirit animal?)

When I have my monthly, my boobs swell up and become so uncomfortable to move around with, that I wish I could simply lay around on a chaise until the whole ordeal was over with. I feel as if I gain 50 pounds, when in reality it’s about 5 max, and my clothes make me look like I’ve been urged by Christopher Walken to give more cowbell. This may be only my perception, but it’s still an awful feeling to have for a week. I know you know what I’m talkin’ about, ladies.

Now, I have to admit, that I don’t have the most wretched monthlies, like many other women endure. I run and workout a lot, which has actually helped mine become much more tolerable over the years. That doesn’t keep me from feeling completely run down and utterly useless for the next few days. When that troll comes to town, all bets are off. I imagine it pounding on my castle gates with a thirst for villager blood and desire to burn all the crops until he’s had his fill. I blame the troll for my uncontrollable bouts of junk food binging and pizza and cheese fries ordering. I can’t be blamed for the 7 chocolate chips cookies I shoved in my mouth earlier this week. I can’t even be blamed for the need to feed on homemade nachos after a track workout! It’s not my fault! I must paid alms to the troll that lives within me!

What I imagine my troll looks like. He ain't pretty.

What I imagine my troll looks like. He ain’t pretty.

I imagine on the worst day of that dreaded week, that the troll has fed, but is not yet satiated and has grown both in size, and strength, but nothing I do will make him go away. He’s crushing my gates with a battleaxe and I can do nothing until he grows tired and annoyed and goes to take nap. Then, the villagers can tip toe out of their little homes and pick up the pieces of their broken village. I may be a bit too imaginative about the happenings of my body each month, but it felt kind of refreshing to joke with my other female friends about the troll. My friend, Ifer was on the same page as me when it came to the whole troll sitch, so being about to blame the ol’ “whore moans” as I lovingly call them, on a troll helps make light of the discomfort that is our burden to bear as women.

I’m finished with my silly rant, but would love to know what you ladies out there label your menstrual. Do you not care as much as I to make light of it? Are you one of those lucky b*tch ducks who floats through the month with barely a discomfort? Are you one of those unfortunates with a family of hungry trolls keeping you home and flat on your back with fear of moving per chance of disturbing the brood? I’d like to hear your thoughts.

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