Stop asking me about my period

Early, late or on time, every month I get my period, and I rejoice. Also every month, I go through stress, anxiety, happiness and sadness. Just like every person, no matter what gender.

But for some reason, if I decide to say something not filled with butterflies and rainbows, it must be that time of the month. There’s no other explanation for it.

It doesn’t occur to some people, especially ones that claim to have a third leg, that there could actually be a valid reason for my mood. Or even something they did to trigger a reply besides, “Oh yes, wise sir. You’re so brilliant.”

Women can handle the common cold like a champ while the average man can’t even muster up enough energy to get out of bed, yet there’s still a stigma over us falling victim to our bodies’ natural cycle.

If I cry, it must be because Aunt Flo decided to visit, not because maybe something significant happened in my life. If I decide to come back with a sassy comment instead of staying quiet, it came out of my vagina, not you being an ass for the nth time. And God forbid, I disagree with you on a topic passionately and don’t back down – it has to be my ovaries’ fault.

The biggest pet peeve of mine is being treated differently because my body requires me to sit down to pee.

In work and life I like to be treated like a human, because last time I checked, I was one. And like all humans, we have hormones and emotions that fluctuate, and they’re not something we should stifle.

So, next time you want to ask me about my period — don’t.

Featured image by Emily Creighton

 

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