8) as i live and breathe (and bleed)

My December to Remember II: Day Eight

News: Parents outraged over American Girl guidebook encouraging 8-11 year olds to change their gender, including without parental consent.
Brittany Griner freed from Russia prison in exchange for Russian “Merchant of Death” Viktor Bout, Paul Whelan still detained.

I absolutely hated everything about my first period. I was thirteen when it happened. That was the second year in a row I decided to wear a bathing suit under my clothes for the entire summer. I can’t really recall why I made that decision, only that I enjoyed how kitschy it made me feel. I had already gone through “family life” and knew it was coming. All the girls in my class going as far as to carry pads and tampons in those teeny tiny backpacks. You know, just in case we bled everywhere. And all the boys knew just what was in those little packs.

I was starting to get jealous when I learned they were all getting it and I was still waiting on mine. Then it happened. And it was the worst day of my life.

Wet paint ahead.

I was in church. I was an altar server for a few years, where I and a few of my schoolmates would assist the priests during Mass, like holding up the gospel or pouring water on their hands after consecrating the hosts. It was just something every good Catholic kid did. After church I changed out of my alb and went into the restroom, where I noticed a spot of blood on my bathing suit. It wasn’t a lot, but it was significant enough for me to take notice. I thought I had cut myself shaving or maybe a bug had bit me, so I ignored it and washed my bathing suit. Sure enough, the next day, there it was again on the second bathing suit I put on.

I asked my mother what was wrong with me and showed her the blood. She confirmed that it was in fact my first period, and an immediate sense of disgust washed over me. Two of my friends were over at the time, and they both hadn’t gotten theirs yet. I was the first in the friend group to ‘become a woman’ and I hated it. I had wanted this to happen for so long, and now that it was here, I wanted nothing more than to go back to the ‘before time,’ when life didn’t suddenly seem so complicated. I had a whole new set of responsibilities ahead of me and all it did was bum me out.

My period was a burden for years. I dreaded each time the new moon rose, lamenting what it is women have to go through on a monthly basis. I always craved salt and sweets, my stomach would bloat, I’d get bitchy and rude and overly emotional. To quote King of the Hill: “You watch Titanic on the right day, it’ll blow you away.” And of course, all the feelings came along with it.

It’s only recently I realized what a blessing it is to be able to menstruate, to get my monthly visitor and not hate her for rapping at my door. Because if these past few years have taught me anything, it’s that something out there doesn’t want us reveling in what makes a female body so special.

We’re virtual works of art.

There’s something very sick going on that tells young people to dislike the body they’re in. This recent American Girl story makes me angrier than I’ve been in a long time. It’s one thing to try and brainwash a bunch of dumbass adults into thinking this entire gender ideology is a good thing, it’s entirely something else to drag children into it too.

I really feel some kind of denigration of society in the works. They want everyone both sexless and oversexed, genderless, and barren. I’m not sure what kind of society that builds, but I know I want no part of it. And I’m not sure at what point this degeneracy fucks off and travels back to whatever hell it came from.

I’m all about flipping traditional gender roles on their heads from time to time, especially with the right person, But we’re at a point where people elevate those who masquerade as something they are patently not. I don’t need a biological man to tell me about his X-amount of days of “girlhood,” pretending he knows more about what it means to be a woman than I do. I’ve been one for nearly thirty-seven years. Some guy romanticizing or fetishizing pads and tampons is just weird. It’s not disrespectful to live in reality and know what’s a force of nature, and what’s a plain old forcing what doesn’t fit.

It’s just very frustrating feeling like your voice gets lost in the sauce due to some kind of ‘woke’ quota that I was never consulted on. While I’m encouraged to see more pushback than not, there comes a strange air of guilt-tripping where I’m supposed to care about everyone’s feelings first and foremost. I’m not supposed to offend anyone, and I’m required to “protect” a certain class of people. Or get them swapped out for an America-hating arms dealer. Well what about what offends me? What about my safety? If you cut me, do I not bleed too? When did my voice get pushed to the side to appease something that simply isn’t real?

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Listen, I will never ever say someone cannot be who they are or be an asshole for the sake of it. It’s your life to live, not mine. I’m just tired of the hyperwoke nonsense that’s at the forefront right now. If your aim is to form a coalition where literally everyone on earth can be involved, degeneracy is bound to slip through the cracks. And while it’s not my place to decide what other adults do, I can push back on involving children. I’ll never be okay with anyone from any political leaning projecting their own ideals and feelings onto someone else’s child, and I’ll use my biologically female voice to make it known.

It’s been a difficult couple of years, and all the anecdotal evidence I’ve gathered just makes me even more happy I didn’t take the medical procedure which could have severely altered my cycle. I figure I’ve got a good ten years period for me to have my first child, hopefully with someone who want to have a child with me. It makes me sad how they pushed and pushed for something that seems to make it that much harder to have one. This all just seems to tie into the idea that they’re really tring to make us all die out and deter us from continuing our generation.

I refuse. I don’t know if it’s necessarily my destiny to be a mother, but I know I want to be one someday. It’s always been a desirable thing for me. And I can do it. Because I am a woman. And no one can tell me I’m not. It’s all I can do to keep embracing who I am, and I hope whatever children I do bring into the world, I can teach them the same. Being able to roll with life’s uncomfortability is what makes us human. We need not try to look for a life-altering quick fix that feeds the delusions.

I think it’s time for a reality check. They want us confused and complacent. And as long as I live and breathe (and bleed), I’ll do all I can to fight back against it. It’s that unmatched feminine energy that’ll always keep me going.

Doing things the ol’ fashioned way.

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