– BY YAYERI VAN BAARSEN –
‘I love surprises, but just not surprise blood stains just when I’m wearing my nice new white undies.’ Period!- editor Yayeri van Baarsen (‘Jumping on the beach because I love my period – NOT!’) – writes a letter to her menstruation.
We’ve known each other for over 15 years now, time for a little talk, because we aren’t really BFFs. More like frenemies. No, actually, being honest, it’s more like: ‘I hate you, you bloody b*tch!’ every month. But since we’ll be stuck together for another two decades, we should at least try to get along. So can I just mention these four things that might need some work?
I love surprises. Who doesn’t? A surprise weekend trip to Paris, a surprise birthday party, a surprise bunch of flowers delivered to the office. All nice and fun. But not a surprise period. Not an unexpected blood stain just when I’m wearing my nice new white undies which I have to throw away afterwards, because no matter the type of washing powder I use, they’ll never be pristine white again. Not unexpected cramps just when I’ve planned a night of dancing / a week of snowboarding / an afternoon of working hard to make that deadline. Seriously, your timing sucks!
Nope, I’m not going to complain about the fact that there’s blood coming out of my vagina. That’s like natural lube. And I also don’t mind my boobs growing a cup size. No problem at all. (My boyfriend doesn’t mind this either). It’s just the tummy. Or should I say, the GIGANTIC tummy which means I have to wear my ugly grey jogging trousers for two days in a row as they’re the only pair that fits. You make me feel fat, which I don’t like. So: boobs bigger: yes, tummy bigger: no. Talking about big tummies, see point 3.
I get it, I’m late sometimes as well, which is annoying because people have to wait for me. Usually five minutes, maybe even ten, but not five freaking days! That’s just not cool. I could deal with one day, maybe even two. But five?!? That’s almost a week. That’s me already picking baby names. Desperate, because I can’t even take care of a cactus, let alone a kid. Me deciding the paint scheme of the nursery (blue with purple stars). Anyway, you get the picture. Just try to be on time in the future, I’d really appreciate it.
It’s not that I’m a little angel. But normally I don’t scream at my mum when she calls me, swear at old ladies who take their time at the zebra crossing or kick the coffee table for being in my way. Also, I don’t usually cry when my boyfriend eats the last spoon of chocolate ice cream (unless it’s the type with extra caramel swirls). That’s all your fault. Now I’m not expecting to jump around happily on a beach, laughing like I’ve just won a million pounds or a date with Bradley Cooper, like the girls in most tampon adverts do. But just a little less hormonal imbalance, is that too much to ask?
Actually, dear Period, forget all the above. If you promise that next month I’ll be able to survive you without needing an overdose of Naproxen, six hot water bottles and four chocolate bars (a day), I won’t moan anymore. One entire painless cycle and I might even honour you with a painting made out of my own menstrual blood. Deal?
This guest blog is written by Period! editor Yayeri van Baarsen (31) who, as you can read, sometimes has a bit of trouble with her menstruation. Apart from freelance journalist, Yayeri is also owner/editor in chief of Enjoy the Algarve magazine, www.enjoythealgarve.com.
The not so divine secrets of the Bullwinkle Sisterhood, by Mary Novaria
A very public menstrual leak, by Sarah Sahagian
My & My Cycle, by Mariette Reineke
Period changes and chemotherapy, by Cruz Santana
A time for celebration, by Robyn Jones
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