19.3.00

Making Sense of Menses

The pain is so bad I can almost see it, swirling in the air around me, touching my skin and seeping into my abdomen, raking over my back with fingernails of steel. I want to curl up and wail, screeching with indignation as I try to expel the nausea with alternating deep and shallow breaths - but that would hurt my back. Standing up, laying flat on the floor, pulling myself into a ball in my mother's soft loungechair - nothing helps. Stretching, walking, being active, being quiet - nothing. Well, I take that back - rocking back and forth gently as I type seems to aid the cramps, encouraging them to leave. Unfortunately, it invites back the nausea, and between feeling like my uterus is being shredded slowly with a cheese grater and vomiting into a bucket, I would choose the former.

(I apologise. If you were looking for entertaining and non-menstrual-centric, you may want to take a peek over at the Book of Rob.)

I'm not sure that I understand menstrual pain. I understand the cyclic nature of menstruation and ovulation; it makes sense for the uterus to constantly prepare for fertilisation. It does not know that we may not be ready for children yet; it just goes along its merry way for the moment that we decide we do. Biological functions have their own kind of logic, and we have to deal with them. I accept that. I also accept that in order to shed the lining of my uterus, there have to be contractions. Hello, womb? I'm not trying to push out a baby here. It shouldn't hurt this much.

If this is menstrual cramping, I think I'd like to pass on childbirth.

I would like for the following phrases to be driven from the modern human lexicon: "she's on the rag/are you on the rag?", "it's okay, she just has PMS", and "she's a complete bitch when she has her period". I'm sure there are many more variations on this, but the essence is this: usually men trying to pigeonhole the vast emotional landscape and physical distress of menstruating into a handy excuse for a woman being in a bad mood. Not only does it make actual PMS or the assorted symptoms of monthly bleeding seem far less significant than it is, but it takes away any dignity from the act. Of course a woman may be grouchy when she's bleeding - speaking for myself, it feels like I'm having hot needles poked through my lower stomach, and right out the other side of my back. Or having my innards shredded. You get the idea. Pain is not conducive to happiness. But a woman can be angry and upset and experience pain without it being a product of her uterus, so assuming that her bad mood is because of a period is just insulting.

So just shut up, okay?

Magnolia is a strange film. It has no discernible plot, other than the criss-crossing of twelve different lives, and the way coincidence seems so completely planned at times. The characters are all touching in some way; whether that touch is grating, painful, soft, warm, likeable or detestable depends on your perspective, experience and the way you identify with them all. I guess it's just like any other character-driven film in that sense, but I've never felt it more clearly than with Magnolia.

I would recommend seeing the movie - but if you like a traditional story, one that has a beginning, middle, and end, you may not enjoy it so much. For example, you couldn't really tell someone what the movie was about. It is one snapshot isolated from a photo album.

You may also consider bringing a cushion. The film is about three hours long, a fact I didn't realise until it was over, and my ass is still sore from sitting for so long.

On a lighter note, I saw a trailer for an upcoming Kevin Costner movie whilst waiting for the main feature to begin - I can't recall the title, but aren't all of his movies the same anyway? It's meant to be a dramatic and romantic story about a baseballer and the woman he loves, but I couldn't stop laughing the entire way through. Kevin Costner on the brink of dying from a head injury - and I was trying to breathe in the midst of giggles that just wouldn't quit.

I think I've just confirmed that I'm a horrible, horrible person, and that I will indeed be going to hell.

Rest calls. More later, and by the way - I'm not too ashamed to pimp my site. Go on. I did it all for you, you know.