Sometimes it’s hard to be a woman*

*with apologies to the late Tammy Wynette

Okay, I have a friend who once told me that she didn’t understand why so many women have bad period stories. Apparently, she always knew exactly what day and hour she would start her period. She just sashayed into the bathroom, grabbed whatever her choice of hygiene product was, sat down, calmly said, “Now’s good,” and no one was ever the wiser.

While I never had it quite that good, I did spend most of my life with a pretty reliable schedule and a very predictable few days a month.

And then…my thyroid went nuts. Between that and the multiple celebrations of my thirty-fifth birthday putting me on the cusp of menopause, I may go months without a period. I’m not complaining, because I commiserate with those women who endure painful cramps and all the other bad stuff that a period can bring. Been there.

However, this phase of my life means I NEVER KNOW when or if it will strike. But if you wake up crazy one day and think, Gosh, I’d love to have my period. How can I make that happen?, here’s a sure way to get your wish. Spend five days in a one-bedroom, one-bath apartment in Maine with three gay men and no other women. Even more importantly, make sure that everything in the apartment is FUCKING WHITE. White towels. White tile. White bathmat. White sofa. White chair. White rug. WHITE WHITE WHITE.

This will work. I promise.