How period really feels

Welcome to the bloody hell. Get on my emotional rollercoaster. For maximum torture, please hold on to the physical pain. Enjoy.

D-2 (according to my calendar)

Today, evil spirits gather in my body. No amount of holy water, holy cross or even holy chocolate bars could turn this day around.

I kept thinking about stupid words I said during today’s meeting. Did I make a bad impression? Shitty failure should be my middle name.

Then, my thought shift to The Game of Thrones’s Jon Snow. He’ll grace my Macbook’s screen next summer — still a long wait to go. Feels like a bad long distance. You know nothing, Jon Snow!

Maybe I should watch something light. I streamed Fresh off the Boat, a sitcom which usually makes me laugh until I forget to breathe. However, the characters’ pain grabbed me more than the jokes. I felt worse.

My normal insecurities were increasing sevenfold. If this were the 90’s, I’d write a song about this, throw in some pizzas and a behind the scene tour life, then release a collaboration with My Chemical Romance. Emo, the haters would call it. Mainstream emo.

Also, I’m craving for orange juice after I just had a glass of it.

Am I loosing my mind?

Something nagged me at the back of my head. Then, I checked my calendar. Guess what? My period would be here in 2 days.

Oh.

…..

…. I figured.

That’s why my boobies hurt.

D-1

Imagine the day after a rigorous workout. Oh. The pain. That’s how I feel right now.

It’s so painful, I decided to take a nap to get over it. Big mistake. I had recurring nightmares. Inside the dream: I woke up, walked around my living room and struggled to open my eyes. Again. Again. And again. Pretty much like low-res horror 4-D ride I can’t escape. The time I woke up for real, my body was sweaty that I had to take a shower.

After I finished showering and reading The Alchemist, I went to a shopping mall with mom and stepdad — hoping to catch fresh air and some Pokemons. Just when a rare one showed up, a stranger intercepted me.

“I’m in the middle of something important,” I threw my poke balls.

“Human rights are at stake!” he freaking laughed at me, then bombarded me with Indonesian education info.

After his long introduction, the explanation went round and round and round. He told general things 6 years olds would know, so I said, “Cool. What do you want me to do? Shall I sign a petition?”

“We are asking for a donation. But, of course, it’s not for everyone, it’s only for people with social soul,” he struggled to disguise his sneer with a sincere smile.

Translation: he mocked, “you don’t have a social soul.” How come? Please elaborate. I dedicated all 4 years of university for a human empowerment organization. My graduation trip was devoted to a UN environment project all the way to Egypt. UNPAID. When I got back to my country, I started helping a national animal welfare NGO. Now, I donated 20% of my business’ profit for that organization and I need more money to pay my bills. Also, I’m currently designing a project with an illustrator — our future plans help underprivileged children to dream.

How dare you judged me for not being social because you can’t wait for 15 goddamned seconds, the Pokemon is almost settled well in my Pokeball? What the hell?

“I support the cause. I don’t like you,” I walked away.

Later, we found Topshop: clearing sale, up to 80%. By the time I enter, my mom was already scanning the nearest rack, recommending a dress to try.

Nothing fits. When a size 4 dress feels too big, I gave up trying anything.

I noticed new details: my body bloats in all the wrong places. Not pretty.

Afterward, I came home being disappointed at my chest, “why do you hurt so much? You’re not even C-cups!”

D-o (supposedly)

I dreamt of giving birth, crazy bloody things dropping off my vajajay.

I woke up half running to the bathroom, thinking I’m going to throw up. I didn’t. Is this a taste of pregnancy?

Shaken up, I tried to write poems to soothe myself.

Then, I got a text from my boyfriend canceling today’s’ get together and he won’t be able to come early tomorrow. The reason: he can’t wake up early. Meanwhile, he demands me to come to his place early. Not freaking fair. He said, “it’s different. You’re an early riser.”

Head. Fucking. Slam.

Given that, I became too messed up for writing.

I remembered my money on my bank. Horrifying. My bank book would inspire Insidious’ people to produce another horror movie.

D-o (The period is 2 days late)

The bad side. Emotional cannon wars were raging on. Everything annoys me. The sun makes me feel hot and bothered in a bad way that I had an urge to dump my soup to that stranger across our table. Also, I wished my boyfriend to stop talking and stop taking a dump every 2 hours. Then, I proceeded to stab my chicken rice before wolfing my Pak Choy down.

Just when I think our late lunch will get worse, sipping sweet iced tea made me smile so wide that my boyfriend laughed a little despite his stomachache. It turned out: I was thirsty the whole time.

The bright side. If I’m sexually active, I’d run to the pharmacy to buy test packs. Thank Jesus, I’m as virgin as Mary. So, I don’t have to deal with those things.

D 1 (For real. Finally.)

Cramps.

D 2

On and off cramps during the day.

A crazy headache on the afternoon. I couldn’t even watch a sitcom.

D 3

Cramps are starting to disappear.

A headache is another story. It persists all day long.

When the night came, I was so scared, like what I’m doing is not enough. My products’ sales record is hitting a new high.

I felt ridiculous. I should be celebrating, not cowering.

Nothing crazy happened in the next few days.

Only occasional annoying headaches.

Thank you for riding with us. Looking forward to taking you to another side of hell next month.

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