I'm not a period babe. Not at all.
Menstruation not only carries with it the connotation of a productive system that has failed to produce; it also carries the idea of production gone awry, making products of no use, not to specification, unsalable, wasted, scrap.
You look pale, Sansa," Cersei observed. "Is your red flower still blooming?" "Yes" "How apt. The men will bleed out there, and you in here.
Women's regular bleeding engenders phantoms.
I've taken Midol before. My daughters find that hilarious. I had a headache and cramps, and there were no other pain relievers with caffeine in the house.
Every father, brother, and husband should know about menstruation. It is not just about women; it is about men, too.
My wife was gone, all other girls failed to cooperate, so I decided to wear a pouch of animal blood myself and test out my pads by wearing them myself. The discomfort I felt for those five days cannot be explained in words; I bow to every woman on earth for going through this every month.
I have periods now, like normal girls; I too am among the knowing, I too can sit out volleyball games and go to the nurse's for aspirin and waddle along the halls with a pad like a flattened rabbit tail wadded between my legs, sopping with liver-colored blood.
If you had women running the weed market, I think there'd be lots of different products. I know periods. I know how horrible they are, and I know enough people who suffer from them that I really want to speak to them so they can carry something in their pocketbook for relief. Or come home, get in a tub, and soak with something that will actually work.
