40 Days and 40 Nights

No, I’m not Josh Hartnett. I’m much sexier. However, I did also have an agonising experience that lasted 40 days and 40 nights, and it did also involve vaginas. Maybe I am him. I call this story: The Tale of the Late Period.

You may recall, in February I took period delay tablets because I was going on holiday on my due date and could not be arsed blobbing all over the place. Well, we know they failed to delay February’s period. But, good news, they managed to delay March’s. By 12 days. 12 fucking days. Not only did they delay my period, they also extended my PMS, so it’s safe to say for that week and a half that I was an absolute delight.

I have the copper IUD fitted which is over 99% effective at preventing pregnancies. But knowing my luck, I was convinced I would be that 1% that it failed for. I mean, I have shite luck with men, so it made sense. I’ve been let down by so many guys, of course my sperm killer would let me down too. So I’m doing what every woman does when they are in this position. Exclaim “oh, fuck off”, convince themselves they are pregnant, say “fuck off”, do a pregnancy test, shout at your vagina, eat a lot and say “seriously, fuck off”.  

I was pretty sure I wasn’t pregnant, but did a test just in case. As I’m waiting three minutes for the results to develop, I’m going through the options in my head over what to do if it’s positive. I really only had three options.

  1. Keep it
  2. Terminate it
  3. Put it up for adoption

Out of these three options, I was surprised that number 3 was the most appealing to me. I thought I’d be all about number 2, but no. It was number 3 which caught my eye. This was my chance to help out a family that couldn’t have kids of their own. I could change these people’s lives. I could actually be the best thing that ever happened to them. And plus, I would get some maternity leave! (I think…maybe not the full 9 months, but I’m sure I’d get something) I mean, imagine getting like 6 months paid maternity leave, and you don’t even have a baby to look after! The dream! Obviously it was helping a family out, good deed done, fulfillment, blah blah blah that was more appealing, obviously. Definitely not the prospect of paid time off. Obviously. So that was decided. I was going to have this baby and donate it to a family in need. And get paid time off.

Just as I had made my mind up and decided on this selfless new life, the results were in. I wasn’t pregnant. No paid time off.  But also, I don’t have to actually give birth, so that’s good.

But still…where was this period? This was day 37. I’m usually a solid 28 consistent day cycle. Surely the pills can’t have delayed it for this long? I mean, they didn’t even properly work. Where the fuck was it? Where are ya, Flo? I had lots of light grey skirts and dressed planned to wear, but could I risk it? I was also bloated to fuck, and no amount of sit ups or poops would deflate my tummy. I was not in a good mood.

Day 40 rolls around and finally it decides to rock up. Finally. Thank you. I missed you. I was beginning to think you’d never come back to me. I’m so glad you did. Better late than never, I suppose, but don’t you fucking dare do that again. Also, now that you’re here, fuck off again. See ya in 28 days. NO LONGER.

I also wrote a poem on my break about this. Here it is. Enjoy it.

She waits.
She's sitting
And she's staring
In her head
Alarms are blaring
Because last month
She was sharing
All her secrets
And she snared him
With one look
And she dared him
To get closer
Now they're tearing
All their clothes off
Both not caring
Because they made
The perfect pairing.
She waits.
Now she's sitting
And she's staring
She's not ready
To be bearing
What bad luck
It's not fair an'
Big mistake
He should have been wearing
But they simply
Were not caring.
It's late.
She's sitting
And she's scared an'
Plus or minus
The sign is glaring
She can't look
She's can't dare an'
It's too much
She's pulling her hair an'
Take a deep breath
The sign is there an'
It's a minus
She's not bearing
She's not bearing
That's the end of
That nightmare, then.

God, I’m a genius.

Anyway, here’s to next month’s cycle and becoming a regular ole flow again. Cheers.

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