Dear Aunt Flo, the monthly interloper in my life, the time has come for me to say goodbye. After three decades of dealing with your unpredictable antics, I’m officially breaking up with you.
It’s been a long and tumultuous relationship. From the awkward teenage years of sneaking super-absorbent tampons up my sleeve, desperately trying to hide them on my route to the restroom, to the nights spent wrestling with maxi-pads in my cute underwear to avoid any embarrassing leaks—I’m over it. I’ve had my fill of the chaos you bring: the cramps, the mood swings, and those unforgettable surprises in the middle of the night that often resembled a crime scene in my bathroom.
You came barging into my life uninvited during a high-pressure AP exam, and I was wearing white jeans, of all things! Nothing like a little humiliation to mark the occasion. “Congratulations,” you seemed to say, “Welcome to a life of monthly products and emotional rollercoasters!”
Over the years, I’ve realized that our relationship has always been fraught with conflict. I craved control, while you thrived on unpredictability. When you chose to disappear during my early twenties—when I was grappling with anxiety and self-identity—I thought it was a relief. But through therapy and self-discovery, I understood that losing you meant holding onto a part of my youth I was afraid to let go.
Sure, we’ve shared some good moments. I wouldn’t trade the joy of my children for anything, and I know your consistency played a role in that. But let’s be honest: the bloating, mood swings, and emotional exhaustion have made life difficult. Each month, I find myself battling impatience and irritability that affect my whole family.
Lately, your behavior has been even more erratic, with unexpected spotting and inconvenient bathroom dashes. I feel like I’m back in those awkward teenage years, just with added wrinkles and gray hairs.
I know you might be considering leaving me, too, and the thought of it is a bit nerve-racking. Will your departure mean the end of my womanhood? Goodbye, youthful skin; hello, mustache and unwelcome chin hairs?
As Danny Glover said in Lethal Weapon, “I’m getting too old for this.” I’m ready to step off this emotional merry-go-round. This is my formal notice.
So, take your leave. My identity and sense of self have evolved beyond your relentless grasp. With every passing month, I find myself inching closer to a final farewell to you—and I’m ready for that change, too.
For more insights on this journey, check out this blog post on childhood innocence, or explore this authoritative source on the topic. If you’re curious about artificial insemination, this Wikipedia page is an excellent resource.
Summary
This article reflects on the frustrating relationship many women have with their menstrual cycles. The author humorously recounts personal anecdotes and struggles, ultimately deciding to move on from the burdens of menstruation. With a mix of nostalgia and relief, the piece captures the complexities of womanhood while embracing the idea of change.