Tag Archives: i am a horrible person

The politics of periods

Warning:  Most men will think this is the scariest/grossest post ever so just don’t even bother trying to read it.

No, this post isn’t about punctuation, it’s about…menstruation!  Let’s all try to be like Dave Foley, and have a good attitude towards menstruation, shall we?

Oh if only there was a Dave Foley for every woman.  We wouldn’t have to feel so self-conscious about shedding a few blood cells, am I right?  Hey guys – newsflash – a period does not consist of a clear blue liquid splashing onto a sanitized white cloth.  It’s a messy, disgusting, bloody, smelly and horrible rite of passage that women go through every month for decades.

My mom was lucky.  She had a hysterectomy at 35, and never had to worry about it again.  I remember when I was little, I found a box of OB Tampons in her bathroom and didn’t really know what they were at the time.  Later on I figured it out.

Now, there are three kinds of girls in this world…girls who refuse to use tampons and only use pads, girls who require applicators with their tampons, and girls who either use applicator-free tampons or the Diva Cup.  (Oh, and you girls who use the shots or those pills that let you skip periods?  UNFAIR!)

I was afraid to try tampons for a long time because I was a good little Catholic girl and didn’t want to put anything where the blessed babies were supposed to come from.  Then I realized that I didn’t want babies anyway, and I got tired of wearing pads and feeling like I was wearing a diaper.  Plus, when you stand up and everything sort of gushes out onto the pad in a warm puddle, it’s the most unclean feeling in the world.  

Nowadays, people are trying to be more environmentally conscious.  I recycle as much as I can, and encourage others to do so.  I’m also one of those people who boycott companies for political reasons.  For instance, I didn’t drink Coke from 1987 until Nelson Mandela was freed because Coke sold its products in South Africa, and sponsored apartheid!  (Imagine Bono saying that previous sentence…)

I still boycott companies.  I haven’t shopped at Target or eaten at Chik-Fil-A for months, ever since I found out that both of these companies donated funds to anti-gay-rights organizations.

As sanctimonious as I am, I do draw the line somewhere.  You won’t see me posting about how people should stop body snarking at jezebel.com.  In fact, I try to avoid jezebel.com.  The people at jezebel.com are exactly the type of people who try to get everyone to use the Diva Cup.

Anytime someone on the internet complains about their period, or about having to use pads or tampons, inevitably someone will chime in and start preaching about the everloving Diva Cup, and how magical and wonderful it is.  I know someone who uses the Diva Cup, and I want to preface the following rant by saying that I love you and accept you as a person who uses the Diva Cup, and I hope you won’t be offended by this post.

Look, here’s the problem with the Diva Cup.  I know that applicators contribute to landfills and can’t be recycled, and that the plastic ones aren’t biodegradable.  But you know what?  If I use a tampon, I don’t have to root around in my bleeding vagina to properly insert a Diva Cup, and tilt it at the proper angle.  If I throw away an applicator, this also means I don’t have to surreptitiously remove my Diva Cup, rinse it in the bathroom sink while I bleed into some toilet paper stuffed in my pants, and quickly run back to the stall to root around in my bloody vagina and reinsert it.  Instead of bending over and realizing that I didn’t insert the stupid thing properly and ruining my clothes, I can strut around in comfort knowing that my bleached cotton tampon will take care of bidness as it has for years.

I was looking at the Diva Cup website, and it said that if someone is having problems with the cup falling out, it might be because their muscles are too weak.  The website recommends kegels to solve the problem.  So basically, instead of saying that their product is poorly designed, they are telling women they have a flabby vagina!  Isn’t that body snarking, Jezebels?

Those of you who like the Diva Cup, go ahead and use it.  Just stop trying to shove it down my throat.  (Oh dear, that doesn’t really sound right does it?)  If I want to use it, I will use it.  If I want to make my own laundry soap, I will.  If I want to wear hemp sandals, I will.  However, the likelihood of me actually doing any of those things is nil.

I will compensate for the wastefulness of applicators by being vigilant about recycling, avoiding bottled water (using my reusable bottle at work), and other such noble acts.  It all evens out in the end, right?

It’s too bad that women don’t automatically get days off during their period.  How awesome would that be?  I would love to get a week off, paid, every month, even if it meant I had to isolate myself and bleed in the woods for a week.  (I could still bring my computer, right?)

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In which I apologize to fellow concert-goers

My lovely friend K. sent me a bootleg of a Martin Gore concert I attended on May 7, 2003.  I was watching it and feeling so absolutely full of adoration for Mr. Martin Lee Gore, but something was ruining the atmosphere.  That something was my own shrieks and screams.  I know it was me because I was the only person screaming as if being chased around the kitchen with a butcher knife, which was my go-to concert scream.  I sounded like I was being waterboarded, or worse.  And now, eleven years later, I would like to tell myself to shut the fuck up!

This revelation has led to a public apology.  Since 1985, I have attended hundreds of concerts.  During most of them, I probably did something incredibly annoying.  A few incidents stand out as the most cringe-worthy, and the most in need of a public apology:

1.  I would like to apologize for collapsing and vomiting all over myself during the July 1985 Power Station concert.  I had heat stroke, and if puke got on your shoes, I am very sorry.

2.  Beastie Boys, please accept my apology for participating in the violent booing which caused you to leave the stage when you opened for Madonna in 1985.

3.  Whoever sat near me during the a-ha concert in 1986, I apologize for screaming hysterically that I could see Pal Waaktaar’s kneecaps through the holes in his jeans.

4.  Nick Rhodes should apologize for wearing a half-shirt that led me to faint when I saw his treasure trail in 1987.

5.  Daniel Ash, I’m sorry that I tried to climb up on stage and molest you during a 1988 Love & Rockets show.  You did step on my hand, so that makes us even.

6.  Morrissey, I apologize for screaming “take it off” when you started unbuttoning your shirt at a show in 1993.

7.  Everyone who sat near me during the 1997 Duran Duran winter tour, I sincerely apologize for the bloodcurdling screams that erupted from me whenever Nick Rhodes did his spoken word bit for “Medazzaland”.  I’m especially sorry to the gentleman who was sitting by me in San Diego who asked me to be quiet.  I yelled at him, “LET ME HAVE MY MOMENT MOTHERFUCKER!”  I am surprised I have never been beaten down at a Duran Duran show (at least on that tour).  I also want to apologize to my friend H. for bruising his shoulders when I squeezed them really hard during the spoken word bit (again) in LA.

8.  I’m particularly sorry for being the person at shows that sings along really loudly, to the point where others stare.  I’m remembering a Tears For Fears show in which I sang “Woman In Chains” at a volume rivaled only by fighter jets.  Sorry, dude who stared me down.

9.  I apologize for being the shithead who was constantly taking crappy pictures with a crappy camera at every concert I attended in the early to mid-2000’s.  I was trying to get a good shot for an earlier blog, and I utterly failed on every count.  I only succeeded in being that douchebag who takes pictures and gets in the way.

10.  I do NOT apologize for being the person who stands up and dances during concerts, because that is why people go to concerts.  Don’t tell me to sit down, why don’t you stand the fuck up instead?

Ah, I do feel better.  That was cleansing.