This week’s Throwback Thursday post is from April 2010. Read Here (with the original comments). I used to blog about my period a lot, and I wonder now why I don’t blog about it much anymore. Actually, I do know why. No, I cannot say why. No, it’s not because of Igwe. And no, I am not pregnant either. KennKnotty left a comment on a post that I cannot find right now where he said I should tell him about Ms. Flow. Clearly, he did not think I would deliver. KennKnotty hasn’t blogged since last year, and although we have not commented on each other’s blogs in a long time, I know he does not know that I still think of him. I hope you’re okay, KennKnotty. Naughty Kenn.
Dear KennKnotty,I like your name. I tend to think of it more as KennNaughty. Naughty Kenn. I like it. The fact that your profile picture is of your lips certainly tickles my imagination. I hope you find this post to be as “mouth-watering” as you said you would. On Monday, I woke up feeling particularly damp between my legs. I did not need to think too far or for too long to figure it out: Ms. Flow was either around or was very, very near. And so, I went to pee, partly because I wanted a chance to wipe myself and confirm my suspicion, but mostly because it was morning, and I had to pee anyway. The red-stained white tissue confirmed my suspicion. Thankfully, however, my underwear was not stained. A few minutes more, it would have been a different story.
I decided to do the only thing I could do at that time [in this particular order]: wash my underwear, brush my teeth, wash my face, and then, take a shower. After which I padded my underwear with one Always ultra light, long pad. It would protect my underwear from blood stains for about five to six hours (less if I dare to pee). Just to clarify, the pee does not go on the pad, just Ms. Flow.
The rest of the day had me running to the bathroom about every other hour in an attempt to empty my bowels. So much for changing my pad every five to six hours. You see, Ms. Flow often brings with her a mysterious case of diarrhea. It’s the strangest thing, I tell you. Sometimes, I poop out something that’s the size of half of my pinky. So little. A total waste of tissue and pads. In addition to the mysterious diarrhea, Ms. Flow also brings with her mood swings, stomach upsets, stomach discomfort, something that feels like the vibration of my waist, an intense need for a massage on the small of my back, and a general feeling of restlessness.
On Monday, I had planned on going to see a movie – Death At A Funeral, but I just couldn’t make it. Apart from having to run to the bathroom every other hour, I suddenly became pissed off and restless. I would have given and done almost anything to just be held and cuddled. Or at least, comforted, even if through a phone. And I thought to myself, ‘What would KennKnotty think?’ I concluded you’d think I’m becoming mushy again. A girl cannot help it. After all is said and done, a girl is still a girl. She still bleeds between her legs. She still becomes unusually emotional when she bleeds. She still smiles at KennKnotty’s picture. But most of all, a girl still sends her consolences to KennKnotty over the loss of his precious, precious daddy.
Now, a girl has to go back to bleeding. Tomorrow is the last day.
UPDATE: KennKnotty actually responded to this post with a post of his own, which he called The Verastic Xperience. How apt! Read Here.
awwwwww
Lol, Fufu
LOL sound just like my experience. Especially the pea sized poop that comes with the diarrhea.
That poop is the worst! Waste of time and tissue.
tufiakwa at what people get liver to dey comment…clearly his name fits him.
Looooool. What is wrong with his comment nah? He only said it because of what I wrote.