About five days a month, for all twelve months, for about forty years, women BLEED. And that's without any substantial injuries. Aunt Flo sure can be a bitch, and she doesn't just come to town for the holidays. The shedding of one's uterine lining as a cause yields a variety of effects - cramps, moodiness, and expressions of disgust from unfamiliarized males, to name a few. Hollow pockets from purchasing fancy winged/non-winged scented/non-scented sanitary napkins or the perfect tampon to plug up your vajayjay, possible TSS (toxic shock syndrome), stained clothes preceding an ironically crimson red face for the unlucky unprepared, potentially uncontrollable deep-sea odor, apprehension about taking a dip in the pool, inability to take a fucking Mr. Bubble bath, and uncommonly, dysmenorrhea, to name a "few" more. Most penised members of society don't know the half.
Often a taboo topic, menstruation is a part of life to be both loved and loathed, usually with far more of the latter. To a twelve-year-old first timer, a period can be either exciting or horrifying. To a sexually active female who likes it raw (Jamie Lynn Spears?), a period can be a big ol' bloody sigh of relief. To some young women in Africa, a period can mean a major educational setback in a lifestyle sans period protection (haven't you seen the new Always commercials?). In the most basic sense, a period represents a woman's ability to bring life into the world, and that is one of the simplest things that makes women important beings. Females most definitely shed blood red droplets of feminism onto our super-leak protection pads of power. Yup. Sarcasm. The bottom line is, Aunt Flo might not be your favorite relative, but at least she visits you regularly. :)
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