Let’s talk about it – The red is coming

I have always envied my little sister in that her pain threshold is so much higher than mine.

She once burned her hand on a marshmallow stick and she didn’t even shed a tear. If I had done the same, I would’ve been intolerable.

I’d be wailing for the first hour and a half – large tears rolling down my face. It’d be an ugly cry. The one where you almost choke on your own saliva and sound like a dying whale. Then the crying would fade into constant complaining about how much the injury hurts.

And it would hurt. A lot.

It’s just I wouldn’t be able to handle it or get my mind off it until I voiced it aloud. I suppose that’s how I cope with inconveniences and pain.

My sister though – she’s a champ!

Someone could burn her with ten marshmallow sticks and she’d tough it out, cuss at them and be on her merry way.

I’ll always admire her strength. (Not so much her cussing though.)

Logan [my sister] and I at my 19th birthday dinner on May 10. This is one of the only photos where we are both smiling.

Logan (my sister) and I at my 19th birthday dinner on May 10. This is one of the only photos where we are both smiling.

And wish I had it too, because I have something I always want to complain about, but I can’t.

It’s really painful. It makes me sick. It inconveniences me monthly.

(If you’re smart, you probably know where my thoughts are here.)

There’s a lot of stigma surrounding women’s bodies and their functions.

Breastfeeding is unnatural and sexual.

Sex is something that apparently only men partake in.

And if she’s mad, she’s on her period.

I remember in high school I was ranting about something that was… admittedly stupid. I probably would’ve dropped my argument, but then a guy piped up with, “Why are you so mad? What – are you on your period?”

There was a moment of silence between the three of us in the room. I made eye contact with my (now) boyfriend who looked at me with clear panic in his eyes.

“Don’t do it,” he was begging me. “Don’t.”

A hot, coursing rage rushed through my veins.

And I turned into a dragon – a fiery, female dragon who puts up with none of that misogynistic tomfoolery that had been infecting the world around me.

“A girl doesn’t have to be on her period to be angry!” I spat back, moving towards him. His eyes grew wide. “You live with girls! How could you say that?”

He replied with an uncommitted “I don’t know.”

Then he asked me if periods were seasonal.

They aren’t. They happen for an entire week at least once a month.

This drives me insane. It’s bad enough that my body is punishing me for not getting pregnant, now other people have to as well.

Listen up folks!

If a woman is angry, she’s not always on her period.

She’s allowed to have emotions – sadness, happiness and even anger.

But on the other hand, I think everyone is angry when they have cramps, bloating, migraines and when they are bleeding willy-nilly.

So let her be angry. She didn’t choose to have these symptoms.

Let her live.

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