WHAT I’M WEARING: OASIS BLACK SUEDETTE JACKET, OASIS VERTICAL
STRIPE BLOUSE, OASIS SLIM BOYFRIEND JEANS & GIVENCHY ANTIGONA BAG
Push up bras and undone blouses, hey, it could be a Drake lyric but it isn’t. No it’s what I like to wear these days. This week I’m a looking for a boost in every way I can, from the padding in my bra to an extra espresso shot in my coffee and on the heel of my shoes. My confidence works like the tide, it entirely washes away and I slump around wondering when it will come back; all the while feeling too large, too tired, too ugly, too hungry. Yes, it’s what we women know as the goddamn menstrual cycle. I’m going away next month, a big box of bikinis hit my doorstep this morning and I foolishly decided to squeeze into them all. And with every bandeau or brazillian bottom, I grew closer to tears. It was a horrible little experience. Should it have been last or even next week, I probably would have loved them all, even the one with the dubious thong. But when my body bleeds, so does my self image, pouring into a puddle on the floor in a corner. Now we as women speak very candidly about our menstrual cycles between friends but I don’t think enough is written about it from a non-scientific perspective. My lovely assistant suffers hellishly, she’s entirely bed bound for 2 whole days with no appetite every month. Another good friend is the victim of satanic mood swings, so intense they have jeopardized many relationships in her life. As for me, I bloat to the size of an elephant and my confidence takes a painful blow. But what can we do? Just like a storm, we simply have to find shelter in something, perhaps sugar or too many naps or glasses of wine and wait for it to pass. Now, I am a 27 year old woman who has been suffering menstrually for over a decade now, but every month I still find the simple fact of my period to be utterly insulting. My reaction is the same should a stranger approach me on the street and try to punch me. I’m like WHAT THE FUCK, WHY, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM. I don’t believe it’s one of the ‘beautiful, natural’ aspects of being a woman, which I read somewhere last night when looking for what I guess I’ll call ‘period stories’. Needless to say I rolled my eyes aggressively and clicked off that webpage. It sucks, it really really sucks. It sucks in a way that makes even putting on a pair of shoes difficult. It makes bikinis and lacy underwear feel like torture devices, it makes me wake up and think of 3 tiered slices of vanilla cake, it makes the books I read and the movies I watch desperately depressing because everything is emotional and confusing and exhausting. But what can we do? We can take to blogs to complain, which is what I did today. And if you suffer, lovely, you are not alone. I’m here shaking my fist and crying for no reason too. And I’ll eat a piece of that vanilla cake, you know why? Because there is one bliss to be found in our periods, and that is that THEY ALWAYS GO AWAY. So extra frosting please because this too shall pass, and on we will go to bloodless, better days.
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