A.N: I’m writing this piece whilst keeping in mind it is going to be read (luckily!) also by men.
So if you’re a man and you are reading it, don’t worry: you’ll feel unease but you’re most likely gonna have a good laugh as well.
The first time I reported that I “was on my days” to my granny, she stared at me with a Regina George style of glance – the one she gives anyone who’s not herself.
“Which days? The days off from school? The good days? The bad days? Everyone has their days. Maybe you wanted to say that you’re on your period, you’re menstruating”.
She never liked saying “on my days”, she believes it’s a way to censor something that doesn’t need to be censored. It is a sly manner that perpetuates a wrong stereotype: “women on their period are unmanageable, that’s why we even avoid saying the word period” .
That’s why I’ll be keeping a diary this entire week.
Because it is not true that women are all “impossible” when on their period. Everyone reacts differently; some are quiet, some chill, some smash anything down, some take painkillers and keep on with living their life, and some do all of the above. (Spoiler: that’d be me!)
This month my period started on Monday.
Like diet does.
And for me, the perfect day for an argument, having a job interview or dividing two fighting guys, it’s my first day of period.
Today I’m the overweight version of Dalai Lama. Usually having a quite intense temper (for info, please refer to the definition of: “dictator”), I try to procrastinate all of the unsolved issue to this day: I know I’ll have the calm and patience of a buddhist monk, while on any other day I’d be a freaking angry driver in the traffic jam.
I even had 30 min of yoga session without shouting at my virtual youtube teacher.
Life is smiling at me.
I’m not gonna do yoga ever again. Not even if I got paid to do it.
I spent forty minutes trying to get up from my bed, and eleven hours before taking my pajamas off.
I became close friend with a white pill, that should help me stop feeling all those stabs on my lower stomach. I’m not as calm as yesterday, so it better work soon. (Read: now!).
I had two breakfasts, one lunch, several snacks and the all-you-can-eat sushi (it would be an unfair understatement if I called it a “dinner”).
The hardest thing I got to do was keeping refreshing the webpage for the TV subs, while waiting for Girls’ streaming to be ready.
This morning my zen quietness came back and I managed not to verbally assault a professor at uni who was giving me a (totally uncalled for) rambling speech. Giving the fact that I had to get up at 6am to get to this meeting, I can say it’s a good result.
In the afternoon tough, I found myself crying in my room because of an argument. I looked like one of those teen movie characters whose films go straight on VHS without even being presented in the theaters. Don’t be fooled: the period is not to blame for what is happening. I often experience this. The difference is, whilst I’d usually blame myself for being “weak”, during my period week I can be more supportive towards me or who brought me to tears. It’s an almost “motherly” attitude – although today I have worked harder than ever to ignore even my neighbor’s nephew (even if she keeps pushing me to make me say how beautiful he is).
I woke up determined to set yesterday’s mess right.
I spent the whole day trying to rationalize what was making me feel sad, preparing a justifying speech to explain my reasons.
I faced the issue and everything went smoothly. No desperate outburst, no crying profusely, nothing at all.
Just a civil conversation that led to the solving of a problem.
Everything while having cramps.
Please let me rule the world.
In addition to period pain, I’m now suffering with a stomach virus.
It hurts so bad I’d say things that would make even the Exorcist kid sound like personified politeness.
Despite having to stay in bed, I decided to release the Stachanov in me and I finished a couple of projects for my job that I had previously put on hold.
In the evening, while not even the strongest meds were giving me some rest, I regretted that.
But that’s another story.
The End. Yes, my period lasts 5 days.
Why doing this Hannah Montana style kind of diary, then?
To prove that menstruating does not necessarily causes the total loss of control of one’s self.
Throughout this 5 days I tend to be the best version of myself.
I’m meditative, sympathetic, calm, sensitive, caring.
I carefully handle my feelings, I listen to my body, I refrain my mood swings and I tend to pacifically put an end to all the debates.
If you still think that’s not possible, it means we’ve met on the other 25 days.