Yesterday, I made what is probably the most stereotypical purchase of my life. On the way to work, I stopped at the store and bought tampons and a 4pk of double chocolate chip muffins. Ho-leee cow. Even the checkout lady looked at me like, “Mmmhmm. I know what you’re goin’ through, girl. Eat that muffin in peace. To hell with periods.” Or at least, that’s the comment I perceived from her look of understanding mixed with pity. I looked back at her with a face I assume said, “If I could feed this directly to my uterus, I would.”
I laughed at myself as I walked across the street to work, and laughed as I chowed on that muffin like the owl in the tootsie-pop commercial. Because really, if you can’t laugh at yourself during some brief discomfort that you can’t help, all you’ve got is feeling sorry for yourself. And who wants that? Not me. If I’m going to throw a party, it’s not going to be a pity one. It’s going to be an awesome one, standard for how I feel the other 29 days of the month when my lady parts aren’t actively revolting. So in the meantime, I’ll just eat that chocolatey goodness and laugh. And maybe mix it with some wine. Except I was at work, so I mixed it with delicious coffee instead.
I pawned off two of the other muffins onto friends. And that last one? Well…that was my afternoon snack. And my uterus thanked me with a cease-fire on the cramps. Evidently the ransom was for two double chocolate muffins. Who knew? If it would’ve just left me a kind note, I would’ve happily fed it two earlier that morning to prevent the day-long rumble in the jungle going on in my ab muscles. Oh well. I at least know now for next time.
Now don’t mind me while I go to the gym…