Dear Period,
Where are you? I’ve been cranky for days now and am in a significant amount of pain. My stomach is puffy and I would really like to punch someone in the face. Doubling over and clutching my abdomen causes a dragon-like roar to emanate from my vocal cords. All of my clothes look terrible and yesterday I was forced to indulge in a serious case of retail therapy.
Look, I know I’m not knocked up because I haven’t been laid in a while, so what’s your problem? Don’t even think about starting tonight. I have a date with the 9:30 club and am expected to rock out to the sweet warbling of Jenny Lewis from Rilo Kiley. I fully intend to squelch your side-effects with ibuprofen, acetaminophen and pamabrom...so don’t even f*ck with me- you oppressive monthly plague.
Sincerely yours,
Ms. Disaster
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1 comment:
DEAR MER:
YOU WON'T GET RID OF ME WITHOUT A HYSTERIAECTOCOOLERMEEEEE.
LOAF,
AUNT FLO
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