This is America. Medicate me.

I’m on medications to even out my mood, give me an attention span, prevent OkCupid babies, and control my heinous allergies.

There are, what, 4,000 erectile dysfunction drugs now?

I think there’s one for a particular form of exhaustion you get from shift work.

They debated putting me on a drug that fixes ADHD and binge eating disorder, which… damn, I still want that drug.

So, really, you can’t create a drug that will make me feel LESS like my period might actually kill me? One that keeps me from waking up weeping for no reason? (OK, there was a reason, but not a logical one.) Could you, like, get on that, Science? Or could I just get sent to the edge of the village or whatever?

I know there’s stuff they can finagle for PMDD. I’m mostly kidding.

Related: the weather in Philly right now can kiss my dick. I checked the forecast and it just said, “Your mood is fucked until Sunday.” That’s what I saw, anyway. It’s possible it just said it’ll be cloudy and rainy.

Feminine hyGENIUS!

Wow. Finally a feminine hygiene product ad that really just…GETS how I roll during my period. Just laying on my white sheets in lacy panties and an ugly sweater contest runner-up, keeping my nose warm but throwing my legs, super-prominent hip bones, and concave lady-belly to the wind, staring pensively at the ceiling.

Totes the dream, right, ladies?

Another fun game of “Period or Plague?”

“Are you there, Google? It’s me, Smug. Are swollen glands normal during a woman’s menstrual cycle? This is new for me.”

“Hi, Smug. Of COURSE they are! Isn’t womanhood wonderful?”

…Well, fuck you, Google. (Nah, I’m just playin’, baby, I love you.)


No shame in my menstruation game.

Via Huffington Post: This Ode To Periods Puts All Shamers To Rest.

I’m really not big into the “Kumbaya sisterhood,” “menstruation is a miracle of womanly nature” shit.

But, um… fuck you. I don’t CHOOSE to menstruate — I don’t think anyone would. It’s a pain in the ladyballs, it’s uncomfortable, it’s exhausting. Salted caramel chocolates and Pamprin become necessary so I don’t fucking cut YOU every 28 days so you’re bleeding as well, and then there’s the feminine products, so menstruation is also expensive.

So you can kiss my bloated lady-belly for even ATTEMPTING to shame any woman for it. We don’t talk shit on YOU because your balls look like the shitty Christmas ornaments you don’t put on the tree because they’re not pretty enough.

Also? You’re an idiot. I’ll say it — period sex is AMAZING. At least for me, that first few days before it gets too hectic in the DMZ, you WANT to be fucking me. All the good bits are extra sensitive, so you barely have to TRY and I’m coming like an adolescent boy who’s just discovered what his dick does.

So yeah. Go fuck yourself, sir, because no one else should.