So, I'm in the bookstore and checking out the new releases. I know none of my favorite authors have a new book out, but I'm forever hopeful that they may decide to take pity and surprise me. Seriously disappointed that there is nothing new on the shelves, I start checking out other offerings. I wade through the twenty or so books on the new president (how do they get them out so fast), the latest diet books, and all the new books telling us that even though the economy is in the shitter, you can still make millions. (Whatever!) At the end of one of the shelves I spot this book:
Just the cover got me excited. It's red, there are no photos and there is a picture of underwear on it. YEAH! New erotic reading! Oh Boy, Oh Boy, Oh Boy! This is my lucky day! My pulse quickens and panties dampen as I nab it up in my hot little hands and eagerly crack the spin, my hopeful eyes scan the pages. Hope was soon dashed. Panties froze over. Pulse thudded to a halt. This was a book about periods?
WTF? A book about the joy of having your period? What kinda crack was this chick smokin' and where can I get me some? Apparently she had the mindnumbingly bad idea to have bunch of women each write down the joys and experiences of their first periods.
Let's break this horrible idea down:
First, why make the book red? That's just gross. Additionally, there are horny women like me running around looking for erotic reading. The cover just leads us on. It's like giving a blow job with no happy ending. Why would you do that?
Second, there is no joy in having your period. It sucks. Save for the first ten minutes of the initial experience when you realize you're a women, blah, blah blah.....the rest of the deal blows big hairy, goat teats. Every 28 days you bleed like a stuck pig and have to wear a big ole maxi pad that feels like a diaper (obviously you use tampons when you're older). You get cramps, you feel just a tad short of homicidal but you cry for no reason, you bloat up like a wood tick and you eat everything in sight. No one wants to be around you and the guys at your office all start to wonder if your morphing into some sort of SheWolf. (Oh wait, that's just me)
Third, I do not want to read about other women having their periods. I get to deal with my own psychotic behavior every 28 days, thankyouverymuch. I don't want to read about how your monthly gift from Mother Nature is all hearts and flowers. How the birds arrive at your window each morning to deliver your days supply of tampons as you struggle to wedge your fat ass into yet another outfit that doesn't fit during these days of splendor. Life is not a fucking Disney film.
Fourth, because you are now a women that means you can get pregnant! Welcome to the wonderful world of birth control. Not only will you have to try 6-7 different kinds of birth control pills to find the one that doesn't cause break thru bleeding or extreme weight gain, you now have to worry about taking them. Add on the additional pleasure of freaking out when you forget to take them. Nothing is sweeter than sitting with the pack in your hands wondering if taking the 3 pills your forgot at the same time will cause your uterus to explode.
Where is the person asking for stories about a guys first hard on or first wet dream? Now, that shit is funny. Any of you men game? I smell a New York Times best seller!