Few things in life are more terrifying than when you think your period is visible to the naked eye. A completely separate fear can be experienced when that actually happens but today’s post is reserved for the incessant paranoia that happens every time your period arrives.
I apologize in advance for the descriptive nature of this post but the same discomfort you’re experiencing now is basically empathy.
Every month (if you’re lucky it’s on time) starts the exact same way. The signs are all pointing toward bloodshed but you assume you’re life is the worst and that it’s perfectly normal to consume your weight in Cheetos. You cry, you scream, you bloat, you cramp and then…you bleed.
Call it intuition, call instincts but before the Spartacus-style massacre wreaks havoc on your week, it happens. You’re usually sitting somewhere inconvenient like at a white party or work. There, in your cubicle you are pretty confident your body has just excreted yet another baby you are so grateful isn’t suckling from your teet. Your appreciation quickly subsides when you immediately realize what that means.
You experience something similar to a black out. Everything around you is forgotten except finding the nearest bathroom. Once on your radar, you try to find reasonable ways to look normal walking backward to the bathroom, rip off your pants only to find sparkling clean panties. Crazy person thoughts commence.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Approximately 15 seconds ago I was tit-sweating my way out of a water cooler conversation only to find no one at the scene of the crime? This is fucking bull shit. I must be pregnant.”
This exact same scenario plays out every few minutes of every day until that bitch arrives. Even once she does, you still need a Xanax to calm your shit because despite the comfort you feel in knowing you’re not pregnant yet again, that same feeling taunts you until she’s gone.
You might find yourself grocery shopping in a pair of grey yoga pants when the feeling arrives. Of all days you chose grey instead of black it had to be today. Instead of going to the restroom to confirm if you’re bleeding out, you give yourself an innocent ass/taint-area caress to verify if the worst day of your life is happening. Nope, all clear!
Maybe you’ll be heading to the beach and feel a little tickle on your inner thigh when you ditch your cover up. OMFG. If my tampon string is hanging out of my new Victoria Secret bottoms, blowing in the sea breeze, I’ll fucking cut a bitch. Haha, nope. Just a stray towel thread! Fuck, did anyone see me digging around down there?
Arguably, period paranoia is just as bad if not worse than the actual period itself. The sheer stress of thinking “they’re all going to laugh at you” is happening and no one is telling you on purpose should be a clinically diagnosed syndrome.