How to Communicate with Humans During Your Period

Communicating with others during that time of the month is a struggle. Truth. Not just because we’d rather NOT talk to anyone during that time, but also because of the internal dialog between what you know you should say, and what you kinda sorta really want to say.

It’s those maddening conversations we have to have with our period, and essentially ourselves, in order to keep our shit together and maintain a healthy adult composure. Like this:

You: Sure, Kathryn! I’d be more than happy to help you unload those heavy boxes from your car!
Your Period: Really Kathryn? Really? You just HAD to have these boxes today of all days. Why couldn’t you have asked Tom, the mailroom guy? Screw you, Kathryn!

You: I’ll have the cobb salad please.
Your Period: You’re so bloated and you look like a blob. Go eat your salad and be sad.

You: Hi Mom. How are you?
Your Period: WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AGAIN, SHERYL?!

You: No Susan, you’re not fat. You look amazing!
Your Period: Seriously, Susan? You’re literally a size 2. I’m practically a beluga whale in comparison but yes, thank you for calling yourself fat thus making me question my bloated and fluffy body. FML.

You: I’m running a little late, but I’ll see you soon!
Your Period: I literally couldn’t move off the couch and didn’t even want to get dressed to attend because laying down and imagining my death is infinitely better than having to deal with people today. But, OK- I’m on my way. You should thank me for this.

You: Sure, I could go for some food.
Your Period: I will literally eat anything you put in front of me right now.

You: It’s okay, I’ll just take an Advil to make it through the workday.
Your Period: Mandatory period days should seriously be a thing in all workplaces. I mean seriously, why the fuck am I even here? I need a hot water bottle and a bottle of wine.

You: No babe. I’m not mad. I’m fine.
Your Period: I’m not fine. I’m just thinking of ways to pick a fight with you because you’re so fucking annoying today and I would just rather not even talk. Why can’t you just rub my back and get me some ice cream? Are you seriously playing Call Of Duty right now? WTF? Wait… did you just??? I don’t like the way that you’re breathing right now. It’s time to fight. Get in the ring.

You: *in the car… waves another driver to merge… acting peacefully.”
Your Period: Fuck you fucking jerk, I have somewhere to be. Move your shitty car out of my way. Jackass!

You: Sure babe. It’s totally cool for the guys to come over for a Poker game tonight. You won’t be in my way at all!”
Your Period: “You are literally a stain on my existence today. If I could ship you to some sort of period man day care, I would. I mean, shit Bradley. Don`t you know that my vagina is on fire right now. You’re so selfish.

You: I’m sorry. I’m aware that I’ve been late this week and I apologize. It won’t happen again.
Your Period: I have literally been dying in the fetal position as an apparent reward from mother nature for not being pregnant and have questioned every morning how badly I truly need this job before stuffing my purse and my vagina with heavy flow Tampax before finally mustering up just enough energy to brave more idiots in traffic to show up to this job. But please, tell me more about how much of a disappointment I am.

You: Good Morning! Have a good day! etc.…
Your Period: Literally go and fuck yourself.