Bend Over Jessica

Last week, the curse of woman struck and I had an unexpected period. So I couldn’t play. Because it was unexpected, I had play dates planned, which were cancelled. I am frustrated. Now I know why it’s called the curse.

I recently, as chronicled in these pages, had the contraceptive implant. Before then, I was on the pill, but I used to cycle the packs so I never had the curse, or at least, only at my convenience, when I had nothing better to do. However, with the implant, I now don’t have that luxury and in addition, I now don’t know when I’m going to come on. Hence much misery and rage. It’s been an angry two weeks.

Do you know that the average woman will have more than 600 periods in her lifetime? Not so long ago, women only had around 300 – because the rest of the time, she would be childbearing or nursing the children, which of course, stops your periods.  These days, with many of us only having one child or none at all, our number of periods is greatly increased. But obviously, I’m hardly going to sprog in order to stop the curse. That would be slightly more than a curse if I had a little ankle-biter running around.

I want to be a man.

In my opinion, women have it much tougher than men. We have periods, which hurt, like gnomes chewing on your womb, once a month without fail.  We bleed everywhere, which stops us from being spanked – nothing embarrasses a guy more than taking down your knickers and discovering the tell-tale blue string of a tampon.  We have to have babies. We have to look after the bloody things and these days are expected to work on top of looking after them. We are insecure, we worry about our looks and about our husbands replacing us with younger models.* We are either too fat or too thin. Our boobs go south at 30. We still don’t get paid the same as men for equivalent jobs and now, with the stupid maternity laws, no boss in his or her right mind employs a woman of thirty because they can’t afford the maternity leave. We still do most of the housework. And because we are all supposed to be feminists now, nobody holds a door open for us, gives us their seat on the train or behaves chivalrously. Why should they? We girls are too busy vomiting in gutters and then shamefacedly getting the morning after pill. And even when we hook a man, we still have to write all the Christmas cards and buy all the presents when he will possibly, just deign to get us a Christmas present, if he remembers. When he says “What are we getting my mum this year” he means “What are you getting my mum this year”.

There used to be a long running argument about whether God is a man. After last week – I know he is.

The bastard.

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*Unless you are Jessica, when you know about the younger models and don’t mind.