On Menstruating Beasts. in Whey and Sonic Screwdrivers.

Just ordinary women, living out their lives. (Shout-out to trans folk dealing with same but on a different level.)

Ooze? Drip? Trinkle? Definitely not a gush. I wonder if it would be easier if it were simply a CLUNK and you’re done. Though, that sounds painful, given how dilation of the cervix functions.

Pads, ‘pons, cups. Forget brassieres, it is an entire industry that receives monetary compensation from menstruating beasts. The cost of being a woman. “Pink tax”, I believe popular culture calls it.

You’re driving to work and drip drip.

You’re arguing with a coworker and drip drip.

You’re feeding your cats and drip drip.

You’re wearing your favorite knickers and drip drip..

You are binge watching Breaking Bad and drip drip.

You get up and go. In my time as a manager, I recall only one menstruating beast who would call out over her period. Not sure if PCOS, but well. It was never stated outright. But, it was once every four weeks. I’m not a complete idiot, just a partial one. Never gave her grief. Go deal with your angry uterus.

It is also fascinating to hear transgirls talk about how they wish they could menstruate. The same thing modern women take a pill or shot to avoid. Clean panties*, no babies - sweet deal.

*normal ‘discharge’ may still apply

Hell of a word. DISCHARGE. Yes, ma’am, there appears to be some DISCHARGE from your vagina. Then again. Mucus? Accurate, but. Sounds like snot.

‘Yes, ma’am, you appear to have a runny vagina.’

:: shudders ::

STOP THAT, BRAIN.

Anyway, I just wanted to salute all those who menstruate. You’re kind of metal. Dripping uterine debris. Blood. From your body. Like its nothing. And if it IS something, you keep going. If it IS something, you scream, you cry, you endure. You endure. THAT is fucking metal.