Ah. My Auntie… The monthly, most-of-the-time routinely, visit from our mother’s sister. I’ve compiled some letters for her and her total control over us women. After years of cursing her, damning her and raging an all out war over not being able to wear white for fear of a random spotting of this broad… I’ve decided to dig deep. Uncover the lurking beneath my disdain for her, surely there must be some appreciation. Freaking somewhere. Guys, this post isn’t for you… but if you so, feel inclined? Continue reading, maybe this will help unveil the mystery in woman land. Or confuse you more… Either way, Good luck with all that.
Dear Aunt Flo,
Without you, debilitating my existence among the outside world for 3-4 days, I wouldn’t know what household tasks I’ve been procrastinating on. Given that I’ve been laid up for almost a week… staring at a visual to-do list. That I don’t want to do. You’re crampage bestowed upon me, forcing me to eat dark chocoloate and caramel covered pretzels to pass the time, I am grateful. Thank you.
My Darling Aunt Flo,
For the incessant emotional roller coaster you’ve provided me for a week? I am filled with gratitude. For without that, I would never have known such sorrow. Meaningless, tearful sorrow that I, nor anyone else, understands; but, somehow lifetime movies do. Tapping into an unnecessary, mopey depression, once a month like clockwork. Fascinatingly, this inexplicable sadness makes boyfriends around the globe jump to our every whim; driving themselves nuts trying to make the crying stop. Just so they don’t have to sit through it too. And somehow every month, they do. Thank you.
For Aunt Flo,
When I am making my physical fitness goals a reality, you manage to swoop in and stop all that. Hey, I had a toned tummy yesterday… Even with a heavy dose of Ibuprofen to pull me through, you annhiliate any hopes of achieving six pack abs perfection with a bloating that I cannot explain away to people. Or myself. Uh, where did this poofy pouch come from? I just know that once you’ve done your thing, I can resume my hotness. For one week though, this heifer? Your puffypacation, I pay oinkage. Begrudgingly… Thank you.
Dearest Aunt Flo,
Mood swings. How do I thank thee? Again, another conglomerate of wild and random emotions that gets the boyfriends to jump to action… just to stop the screaming. Then the crying. And then back to the shreiking again. Remembering every horrible thing our loverboys do to us, month after month, and being able to use our elephant-like memories to brain suck them into submission. This one, Aunt Flo, being my favorite of all… I give homage. Thanks!
All in all, the enigmatic effect on the boys around us is truly the best part of you, Aunt FLo. We girls stay mysterious- and keeping mad confucktion- to the opposite sex… and that’s our super power. I salute you Auntie! So boys… keep attempting to unlock our secrets with your cereal decoder rings. Or just keep thinking we’re crazy. *wink