You and Your Penis Have It Easy

Right now I am sitting in bed with my legs crossed trying not to cry. I just got off the phone with you and the persons voice that should have soothed me the most only filled me with these murderous tears that are teetering so dangerously on the edges of my eyes. Last Saturday you told me that my eyes get greyer in the winter, but in the summer they are blue. I have been staring at myself in the mirror ever since in critical evaluation. No one wants winter eyes.
Today I am bloated and cranky and groggy and awful. My bad vibes are pulsing and waving and infecting everyone around me so it's safer to sit in this little room with the snow white lamp and pound away into my laptop- i don't want to spread this kind of miserable Wednesday virus around. Not even Hannah Montana in the minivan with my mom could help me today and I'm thinking it's time to meditate again. You will be here soon in your loud ass car with your death stick and your smart ass comments i usually adore but I am dreading today. I could snap at any minute because I am insecure and exhausted and just praying for someone to drench in all this menstrual depression. One wrong move and it could be you and I don't want to spend all next week apologizing for the thoughtless words my period brought me.
And oh, you are the lucky one. The broad chested love of mine who will never know the agony of changing a tampon or buckling over in choir because your cramps hurt too bad to hit the high notes. You will never know the overwhelming self doubt you feel when you have to suck in to fit into your favorite jeans because your stomach is busting with water and chocolate bars from your last emotional breakdown. No, you can sit back and laugh at me when I cry because of that final episode of Party of Five. You can call me whiney when I need you to offer to hold me more than anything in the world. Because that's all I need right now. Compassion, understanding, and hell, this may be stretching it, but maybe even a little bit of sympathy. Because honey, you and your penis,
YOU HAVE IT EASY.
You should be praising me for the hell that I skip through. I do not fall off the face of the planet when that special time of the month decides to grace me with its presence. I go to first bell at seven fifteen. I eat chicken fajitas with tan beauties and talk about spring break. I make websites and poetry and go to yoga classes at the gym. I live my life. I try to spread love.

And I do all of it while bleeding out of my vagina and smiling.
Now tell me
have YOU ever done that?


I didn't think so.
So before you start to rag on me for my slight bad moodiness,
look between your legs honey, and thank God you don't have a uterus.