blood

Periods is a Man!

laughterbubbles ROFL , , , , , , , ,

This is a dialogue between a woman (me) and her periods. The period is a man.

Well – of course he is!! Would a woman invent such a thing, and then put another of her brethren through this kind of bullshit, over and over again? Month after “bloody” month?

THE PERIOD IS A MAN:

Personality – Agressive, Brash, Unpredictable, Impulsive, Impetuous, Rash, Hasty and Downright Inconsiderate.

Characteristics – Mischievous, Badly behaved, Irksome, Nocuous, Sly, Exasperating, and an Unholy Terror.

Period, in this dialogue will henceforth be known as P. P as in Pain in the butt. (or stomach, or vagina, or boobs!)

I (and the thousands other fellow sufferers) will be known as MW – Miserable Woman.

The door bell rings. MW is expecting no one, so she is surprised. And then shocked –  to see, P standing there.

MW: Whaaaa? You were supposed to arrive a few days later?

And MW tries to close the door on P. But once P arrives, P has to come in, and remain as a damned unwanted guest in your house for the next few horrible days. Nothing can stop P from taking residence whenever he so pleases.

P is comfortably snuggled in the sofa, and MW is having a crying fit.

P: Why are you crying?

MW: (Between heartbreaking sobs) I wanted to go swimming with my husband this evening. Now you have ruined it. And the husband will finally give up on me, eye that hot blonde (fake one) in the pool, loose interest in me, and when I have gone to the loo, (thanks to you – asshole), he will take her number and get in touch. And then have an affair. Oh! God ! What if he leaves me for her?? I don’t think he will – but …

At this point P has sighed 80 times, rolled his eyes 100 times and now looks like he is ready to turn around and sleep -(remember he is a man!) The only way he can stop this is by throwing a cramp at MW.

MW stops mid triad and collapse into an uncomfortable mind numbing painful ache. More sobbing ensues.

Tired, exasperated MW goes through the chores of the day, with a hungover look on her face.

Just a few days before P made his appearance her breasts were feeling like rocks, and each time one of the kids hugged her, she felt they were mountain climbing on her.

Her body was bloated, stomach heavy, and hunger pangs at their meanest best. Chocolates were gobbled up and immediately after they were swallowed, guilt would strike. And with that – out would come the sarcastic mean bitch living inside MW. The one who made an appearance once a month without fail. Like a ghost with an agenda.

Once P arrived (ill timed as always) the bloating disappeared. All that remained was the mean bitch.

But next day MW is feeling remarkably better. The world looks like a happy place. Till she went to the loo! All hell broke loose then! Figuratively speaking!

P: Well hi! Good morning!

MW: Good morning my ass! (Gutter mouth is a side effect of P’s arrival!)

P: Now is that any way to greet a friend who makes it a point to visit you every month? I mean who could be more faithful?

MW: You are never welcome, you know! I hate you.

P: Not true. Remember the other day, when I arrived on time, but you thought I was 3 days late? (naughty girl!) You welcomed me like I was that puppy you always wanted? And you sent up fervent prayers of thanks to the MAN that made me?

MW: (Sheepishly agrees) True. And I will remain ever grateful to your arrivals. But why are you so ill timed? And why such grand entrances. That once, three months ago was so embarrassing. Why can you not give me a warning?

P: Darling – I do! Sometimes you are too busy to see it!

MW: (Thinking — Yeah ! True! Why do I forget that! Empty mind and all that ..)

MW: When do you think you will leave forever? Huh? I have had you visiting me since I was 12. Don’t you think you need to diversify and move on? I have been feeling you getting milder, your arrivals more inconsistent for a while now. But the problems associated with you will never fade. I don’t know how much longer I can handle you!

P: Darling – (MW hates being called that by P, and P knows it) I’m not going anywhere in the longest! You will have an ultra dry vagina, a mean streak which will hit record levels, even for you…

MW is now abusing copiously.

P:(Continues, least concerned about gutter mouth) Missed dates which will give you high BP, food cravings, the smell of which will make you fat, grey hair, dry itchy skin, and mild alcoholism!

MW: (The last few words, put a sudden 100 watt smile on MW’s face) Now that perks me up. You fuck with me as much as you like P. I know how to deal with you.

MW went to her bar. Poured her self a chilled crisp glass of wine, started a chick flick – and in the back ground P faded away, till he could not be felt anymore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dentists.

laughterbubbles ROFL, The people around us! , , , ,

There is this hotel, near my house. When you drive up to the lobby, the car vibrates terribly, because the road is made that way. The tires grate on the driveway and make terrible sounds. It instantly makes me feel as if I am on a dentist’s chair, and my teeth are being ground with some offensive drill. As it is, I am not too fond of this hotel, and then to arrive to it as if I have just visited a dentist – not happening!!

sets the "teeth" on edge.
sets the “teeth” on edge.

Sometime back, I was called to cater to an opening. I went to meet the client, and when I heard she is a dentist, I shuddered. She saw it and said, with great dignity, “We are fairly painless now, you know”. I catered, but I could not congratulate her!

So they say!!!
So they say!!!

As a kid, mom took us to a “Pediatric Dentist”. Pediatric – my foot. She was the spawn of an evil witch, destined to be more evil than her mother. She had a shrieky voice, rough hands and absolutely no dentist – chair – side, manners. She probed and scraped in wild glee, and kids were not allowed to show their disapproval. I think – no I am sure she did not like kids – that’s why she became their dentist. Easy prey for torture techniques! She had a very, very sweet assistant, and I would always ask for her. One day she was gone. Apparently, one was not supposed to be nice to kids! The day, she had my sister unconscious under general anesthesia, was the day I complained to my dad. And that was the end of our visits to her. I don’t know if she still exists. I am sure, her torture drove one of her patients, to grow up, and kill her. Even now, when I pass the building, which housed her clinic, every hair on my body stands up.

She practiced war moves on us kids!
She practiced war moves on us kids!

Then, mom decided, I needed braces. Which I must have, as I sucked my thumb, till an unmentionable age. I don’t remember the first dentist. But as the braces went in and he tightened the wires, I remember feeling so upset, that I pinched him. Hard! Then at some point the orthodontist changed. He must have been unable to bear the pinches. The second one was a sweet fellow, but he decided every six months, that I needed the braces, for six more months. Mom had stopped coming with me for visits, so, I one day told her he shut down his practice. Just like that. She believed me – perhaps for the last time, and changed the doctor. The third, was told categorically by me, that the braces have to come out. He was not a good doctor, or I must have snarled nastily, because he complied, and put me in retainers. I threw those out a few years ago, from the pile of memorabilia my mom handed to me recently.

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So you see, I have a valid – morbid fear of dentists. I am not an inherently empathetic person. Mostly, I would like to give a dithering, whining person a slap on the face, and ask them to snap out of it. But someone has to just mention an impending visit to the dentist, and I become all soggy inside. That person is my hero till the visit is done.

All this is revealing itself, because I had teeth extraction yesterday. Yup! Two, of them. Nasty it was. In the middle of the night, when I was trying to sleep, 12 hours after the surgery, the clot dislodged itself and my mouth was full of blood. I resembled a cross between a vampire and a werewolf – on a full moon night. After the husband and me leapt out of bed, and called the doctor, and all the blood dribbling down my face was cleaned up, I went into further panic, because the brushing of the teeth with good minty, mouth cleansing toothpaste was pushed further away.

Today morning, even the dog was not willing to meet me.