Warning to any men about to read this: If you can’t handle the thought of, or reading about periods, bleeding like a stuck pig for seven days and not dying, i.e. menstruation, DO NOT CONTINUE. You have been forewarned.
So like I said, Wednesday night the 14th we get in, last day of anti-biotics, I’m out of the car finally. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
Next day we go run some errands and pick up necessary items we need for the house before the movers bring our goods. Guess who decides to rear her ugly head? That’s right, Aunt Flo. And guess who has two thumbs and no pads or tampons? That’s right, you guessed it, me! FML! Seriously, what else do you have for me Mother Nature? As if things haven’t been chaotic enough! So halfway through the second store the pain is horrific, and can no longer stand. (I’m one of those special women out there who for the first two days of that lovely monthly gift, can’t function due to pain and very heavy…menstruating. It feels like my nether regions have been bludgeoned with Thor’s Hammer…or a meat cleaver, same result…the urge to cut my vagina off!
Now, onto the main point of the story. Standing in my new bedroom on Sunday afternoon while the Head Thing is laying in bed still trying to fight a hangover. He tried to play with the big boys the night before and failed miserably. Maybe I should have given his balls back to him out of my purse before he attempted beer pong on top of his other beverages. He’s at least awake and talking to me…
I’m pacing going back and forth to the window waiting for the Direct TV guy to come. And this is the question my husband asks, “So, uh, are you done yet?”
Me: “Don’t you worry your pretty little face about that.”
Him: “Why wont you tell me? Are you at the beginning still, close to the end?”
Me: “I’m in the middle”
Him: “Oh, so you’re just finishing up the 9th hole.”
Silence…I am actually speechless at this moment. Did he seriously just relate my period to a game of fucking golf? “Yes dear, I’m about to play the back 9.”
You know, there are those split moments where I am curious to know what he’s thinking…not any more. After that, I’m terrified to see what goes on in that man’s head! Who the fuck relates a bleeding uterus to a game of golf? Only in a mans world, I swear!
Yep, heading to the 10th hole now. This one is a Par 4, so by the time I make it to the 18th you should get laid again, oh in say another week.
Why care if he related it to a pain in ass game of golf. You related it to a person "Aunt Flo" at the beginning of the post. I've heard ladies relate their periods to CSI crime scenes or even worse, Sharkweek. So fact is, you only got worked up because he's a dude.
ReplyDeleteI am a very sarcastic individual, and my spouse and I have a very morbid sense of humor with one another. I found the whole interaction priceless in hilarity. If you don't get my humor in what I write and how I write it, don't waste your time reading my blogs. No, I did not get "worked up" because he is a dude, but thanks for trying to have a vagina and twisting my meanings like a female. Have a nice day, and for everyones safety and sanity, please choose not to read any of my blogs in the future.
DeleteI wonder if we did this in terms of football terminology what the conversation would have played out like? Even still, if this had unfolded using baseball terminology, it would be even more interesting! Conversely, the baseball terminology could be played out nicely when referencing a male. You know what I am saying....bat, balls, home run. I would be interested in hearing how this might play out from the woman's perspective!
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