Disclaimer: I take no responsibility for shocking, educating or causing the men brave enough and ‘new’ enough to read this post, to projectile vomit – welcome to a woman’s world.
The Menstruation Tent (Photo credit: GorillaSushi)
I have my most interesting thoughts when I’m attempting to drag my body from one end of the local pool to the other.
If you follow me on Twitter, you might have noticed that there was a lot of talk about menstruation last week.
I’ve been hyper-focusing on periods a lot lately – mainly because I’m mentally and physically (should be) OVER them, as I’ve mentioned one or eight times before on my blog (here).
So last week, when even the ‘Neurofen for Abject Misery’ wasn’t working, I asked my followers if there was a teenager out there who might want to ‘feel like a woman’ early and adopt my periods now – in a kind of exchange arrangement.
What’s really making me bitter, twisted and psychotic about periods at the moment, is just how difficult they make it to do certain things. Those adverts about roller-blading and swimming are obviously a gross misrepresentation of what you can actually do during your period – it’s just a way of sucking the innocents into the bloodbath – because the reality is, periods don’t just stop at the excruciating pain and psychopathic mood. They suck, big-time.
I was forced to swim during mine last week.
Normally my timing is much better, but as I’d found (seemingly) legitimate excuses for NOT swimming the previous five days, when an unfortunate window of opportunity became available to go to the pool, menstruation seemed a rather pathetic excuse.
Anyway, it was day 1 – commonly known as ‘the trickle’ – (just before it turns seriously nasty and into the full-blown ‘tsunami’ of days 2,3,4, and 5).
Do any of you find that the main problem with swimming during your period is the logistics of hiding the tampon string? If anyone holds the secret to concealment, please let me know. I’ve tried everything – up the crack, around the back or in a ball at the vajajay entrance.
Nothing is failsafe.
The ultimate fear of course is that the telltale little white string will work its way out just as you exit the pool and in full view of the lifeguards (that you’ve spent the past 3 weeks perving on) in a ‘DID I MENTION THAT I’VE GOT MY PERIOD?’ kind of moment.
Ever notice all those women frantically groping around their groins at the steps from the pool?
The other fear of course is that the tampon will soak up so much water from the pool, that it will free-fall out of your body with the speed and accuracy of a bullet, aided and abetted by bloody gravity, and then land, a soggy, bloody SPLAT on the steps, scarring for life all those innocent little kindies who have just come to learn how to swim.
When I don’t have my period, I swim monotonously, counting each length torturously down, wishing it were my last so I could already be tucking into that ‘pat on the back’ muffin and Latte. Swimming when I have my period, means that my mind continually wanders back to the whereabouts of that tampon string at any given time, praying to God that it is not in full view of the faster swimmers queuing behind me, wearing goggles.
We women have to put up with so many body issues when we do sport, don’t we?
It must be so much easier for men.
They don’t have to worry about any of this stuff, do they?
Aforementioned concealment of tampon strings and unruly pubic hair
Fanny farting during yoga and Pilates
Children in the shower shouting ‘look at that woman’s enormous bush!’
Children in the shower looking pitifully at your empty breasts
Poor bladder control (aka ‘weeing slightly’) during difficult yoga positions or from resulting embarrassed laughter
Women’s bodies weren’t really designed for strenuous exercise, were they? At least, that’s been my excuse for a while now.