I have spent many years condemning you, cursing you and generally uttering my disgust at your sheer existence. However, for all the shooting off at the mouth I have been doing about how I have no emotional attachment to you, turns out I do.
Sure we have had some rough times. But we have also had some awesome experiences leaving us with some mind-blowing and wonderful memories.
I should have known you were going to be a challenge when I first found out you were ‘tilted’. Oh how many times have doctors, with that quizzical expression rummaged through you looking for Lord knows what and uttered those five words, “you have a tilted uterus”.
Of course it was almost always followed with, “but that’s not a problem”. I figured it just made us a little more unique, only 20 in every 100 women share our condition. I must confess though, the only time I experienced any real emotion around you being tilted was the elation I felt when I found out Suzi Quatro was also blessed with one. Kindred sisters and all that…
However, long before I found out you were tilted, our first issue was you were a ‘late bloomer’. It seemed like every other girl in high school was getting her periods, enjoying the right of passage into womanhood which it turns out, amounted to nothing more than the joy of blood loss every month or so for at least five days or so for the next 40 years or so. Ah yes, I love being a woman. Anyway, I digress. I must have been around 14 when you exploded onto the scene. Finally!
I had blossomed and joined the sisterhood. It all went well the first time (my mother had prepared me) but after that, unlike most uteri, you kept it interesting. No regularity for you. Oh know, you decided to just pop and release whenever the heck the mood took you.
This proved to be somewhat challenging. Would it be 24 days, 30 or maybe even 40? I think your personal record was about 63 days.
Tell me, what teenage girl, or woman for that matter, doesn’t want to spend most of her waking moments from about 20 days after her last period just waiting for that familiar ‘seeping’ feeling followed by that internationally renowned internal chant, “Please don’t let it have gone through my knickers and onto the seat”. Slowly you rise from your chair, your lungs pause, ever so subtly you glance down. Oh praise the lord! No stain! Breathe! Now where’s the nearest toilet. Ah good times…
Then there’s the pain. Oh the pain! But, I have to say, from the horror stories I’ve heard from other women, you were actually quite easy on me. It didn’t really start to get bad until after I had children and if I’m honest, it was both you and the ovaries that gave me grief. Of course, it was at different times during my menstrual cycle so that was great (she says facetiously). And, unlike some, it wasn’t a continuous ache for days on end. It was a sudden and prolonged stabbing pain that would happen at any given moment.
I recall paying council rates at the local library one day and BAM! The poor woman serving me didn’t know what to do as I buckled over and accosted the counter with a white knuckled grip. She was offering assistance, bless, but I just had to breathe through it and sure enough, after a few minutes, it left as quickly as it had arrived. Now don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful that you did not give me as much grief as others have had to suffer, but it still hurt like a b*tch.