FOAD Aunt Flo

***Warning....men, you're not gonna want to read this one. But you can scroll down and read the last couple of posts I did and donate your hard earned money to a good cause***

It's Thursday and I actually remembered what that means....FOAD day! I wrote my last two posts about the suicide prevention walks after midnight so they originally said they were posted on Thursday. In order to free up this space for FOAD only, I went back and changed the dates on those two. Surprised I remembered to do that considering I was up until 3 am.

This week's FOAD rant was going to be about the weather cuz it's been unbearably hot, but an amazing thing happened last night....it rained. The rain brought with it a relief from the heat and humidity that was so horrible that, compared to the air temperature outside, the 98.6 degrees of moistness in my pussy felt like it'd been fucked with a popsicle. So instead I'm relegating the topic to the lucky runner up...Aunt FLO or as Mizeeyore calls it, the monthly misery!

Why the fuck do women have to endure this physical and mental disaster every fucking month? I know, I know, because we're the ones that give birth. That still doesn't explain why we must go thru this EVERY FUCKING MONTH! Why couldn't it be every other month, every three months or even less frequently than that?

I'm tired of the cramps that feel like my uterus has been trapped in a vice for 4 days. I'm tired of the gushing blood when I get up each morning, as if some imaginary cork had been popped from my cervix. I'm tired of the clots that seem to slime their way out at the most inopportune times, like when you're at the grocery store and you crouch down to get a can of tuna fish.

Medical science has advanced to brilliant levels. They can transplant hearts, lungs, livers, kidneys, etc. Why the hell can't they do womb transplants? I would gladly donate my slightly used, probably a bit stretched out from the 10 lb butterball I gave birth to, uterus to some poor woman desperate to have children but can't because her factory installed materials are defective.

I'd hoped to come up with a poem entitled Ode to my Uterus, but the lack of sleep and the damn fucking cramps are too distracting to concentrate on coming up with anything witty. So to you Aunt Flo all I can say is...FUCK OFF AND DIE!!

P.S. If you'd like to join in on FOAD Thursday's, click the link at the beginning of this post. Join us. C'mon, you know you want to let it out.