misunderstood

Dear U,

I’ll admit… I have been trying to avoid you.

Mostly because over the past week I have had so much of you it makes me sick to think about anything to do with menstruation. You seem to be trying to prove yourself, what with all the physical symptoms and emotional trauma you are putting me through.

Was it something I said?

Something I did?

Honestly all your gimmicks make it difficult for me to work. I guess I should have put a little more thought into my graduate work. Maybe I should have picked a topic that isn’t present everyday of my life.

Something like… the way ants communicate or the effect rap music has on adolescents’ views of violence.

Although neither one of those would be interesting to me, at least they wouldn’t creep up on me in the middle of the night with little stabbing pains that feel like pitchforks in my abdomen.You seem to want to make a statement and a very bold one at that. Well I get the point! You obviously don’t like being silenced, but I don’t think you understand how much of a nuisance you have been.

Contrary to what you believe… it is not ALL about you.

I think what irritates me most is how you seem to show up at exactly the times I hope you will be absent.

Regardless, we need to work something out. Our relationship is getting a little out of hand. I will try to care for you more (even though I’m pretty sure I baby you) if you will try and step back a bit and take a breather.

Honestly I understand how you feel. It must be hard to take constant criticism day in and day out. Even before doctors knew what U were, they seemed to establish that U were something that needed to be controlled by evasive and unnecessary means. I guess if I were characterized as a threat to the progress of the human race, I too would be bitter. Funny thing is women are viewed in such a way even today. I understand how frustrating it is to have your actions judged based on your anatomy rather than your intelligence. I also understand how discouraging it can be to have medical professionals define who you are and what you are feeling as if your own personal thoughts are exempt from the prognosis.

I guess in some ways women (myself included) contribute to this horrible pathological tradition by making fun of U, letting our bitterness about U become a running joke. Even medicating ourselves to the point where we obliterate U and your processes all together.

Are we really any better than those doctors that poked and prodded their way into women’s health in the late nineteenth century?

I’ll admit I’m not, and that my friend is quite horrible.

I don’t know why I thought that in my quest for equality and respect for women, their bodies and their health you were the enemy. This month it will be different. I guess I saw my ranting as therapeutic and while I think there is a place and time for such bitterness, it seems to do more harm than good for our relationship.

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