I had absolutely no desire to go to class today, which isn't exactly untrue of any other day of the week, but I hadn't skipped an entire day of school yet this semester (which is a record considering all semesters previous), so I decided to treat myself. Not that I didn't drive all the way to school anyway, because I tried to convince myself that once I got there I could push myself through one last day of torture before fall break. But the moment I hit Western Avenue - the road that represents the death of my inner peace and tranquility as I make why way into the 9th circle of Hell sometimes referred to as "college" - I realized that more than ever there were a MILLION other things I'd rather be doing instead of going to school. Like ripping my fingernails out one by one. Or jumping up and down on a pile of broken glass.
As luck would have it, this ended up being the single greatest decision I've made thus far in the school year, because it just so happened that an hour after getting home from my pointless drive to school, (cover your ears boys) I started my period. This in itself is not a horrible thing. I had all the required materials stashed in my purse, so like a true boyscout I Was Prepared. But I didn't have any Motrin with me, and this is the ONLY thing in the world that can calm my abdomen down as A LAYER OF MY INNER FLESH RIPS ITSELF OFF OF THE WALL OF MY UTERUS. Now, doesn't that sound like fun?
One of these days, my caps lock is going to freeze up on me. AND THEN ALL OF MY SENTENCES WILL LOOK LIKE THIS. Consider this a warning.
Anyway, so had I actually gone to school today, I would have been without Motrin, and normally, it takes about 6 hours for the cramps to kick in, but today? Ohhhh...today. No, today they started about 2 hours in, which meant that since I'm on campus for 8 hours a day, I would have been somersaulting my way to class, since I would have been locked into the fetal position, hugging my poor stomach.
Even after taking two Motrin - the most I've ever had to calm the pain (OH THE PAIN) - I was still lying on the couch in agony 3 hours later. I popped two more Motrin, grabbed a heating pad, and went through a routine of lying on every flat surface in the house in various positions trying to find one JUST ONE to make the pain stop. I had my feet in the air a couple of times, I was trying to push books into my stomach (pressure helps, people), I think I even tried pushing a bit just in case a baby was about to come out. I mean, immaculate conception happened to Mary, and my name DOES mean "Christmas Child," so I wasn't about to rule it out.
(By the way - No baby)
In this process I'm pretty sure I invented a couple of new yoga positions, none of which helped, though they might come in handy when attempted to disprove a few laws of physics. But I'm telling you all of this, because I realized something. When you think of giving birth to a baby, people usually just think of all the labor pains - THAT is what women go through to bring life into this world. But NO. It's a heck of a lot more than that. We go through little mini-labors once a MONTH for DECADES just so we can pop out a few who then take on the last name OF THE GUY. Not that I'm getting all feminist or anything here, but you better believe when I get married I am totally going to use my uterus as leverage, because until men start ripping the outer layer of their balls off once a month, I'm pretty sure I have that right.
24 June 2009
[Imported] The post that will make all the men cringe
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment