I wrote a song once called "I Hate You, Period"… but everyone thought I was singing the full stop. So I changed it to "I Hate Menses", so now it sounds like I'm saying I hate men but in a really girly kind of way.
When Mum first told me what would happen every month at random times & places till I was too old to enjoy life, I screamed excitedly “Am I being punk'd?”
Apparently not… “It’s so you can have kids" she said, like there was no cause for concern. I thought the only way that explanation's ever going to justify a life long subscription to a haemorrhaging surprise party, would be if I could give birth to Jesus! Or money! Or a nice bottle of Chandon... I'd christen that.
And don’t get me started on the pads, they wrap each one like a freakin' pass the parcel... only I’m not happy when I open it. Maybe if a balloon or some chocolate fell out, I might actually look forward to it; of course a joint or 5 grams of crack would also be acceptable.
If there really is a God, what the hell was he thinking when he created this superfluous abomination!? I think on the 8th day he rested & then had a little bit of a giggle. Lol God... lol.
We should at least get a choice in the matter when puberty hits & Danoz Direct knocks on your door... "Would you like to, A: Be a woman; this includes menopause, cellulite & pregnancyyy, which comes with no caffeine or sushiiii... but that's not all, we'll even throw in a painful 15 hour labour during which time your vagina may or may not teaaar... & then you'll shit yourseeelf! No? Well then, can I interest you in a penis? They're quite popular. You won't stop touching it from the day you're old enough to reach it & all you'll ever think about is humping thiiings... & footbaaall, but mostly seeex. If you take this offer now, nobody will ever call you a whooore."
Hmm, let me think.