I have a bone to pick with the Blumester. She made it seem like having your period was just so cool in her book Are you there God, it's me Margaret. Take this excerpt for example:
Are you there God? It's me, Margaret. Gretchen, my friend, got her period. I'm so jealous God. I hate myself for being so jealous, but I am. I wish you'd help me just a little. Nancy's sure she's going to get it soon, too. And if I'm last I don't know what I'll do. Oh please God. I just want to be normal.Bahahaa...doesn't it just take you back to the Four PTS's (preteen sensations) Gretchen, Nancy, and Janie - and of course Margaret. Remember when they played Spin the Bottle at Norman Fishbein's party and she forgot what number Phillip Leroy was and called out Norman's number instead? Ahh, the innocence of that silly book.
Back to my gripes. I feel like there are a few missing chapters in that book. How about a letter maybe to Mother Nature herself, Aunt Flow, whatever you want to call the most evil woman that exists? Better yet, how about a letter from her. I think it would go something like this:
Chapter 10: A Letter from Mother Nature
Hello, I'm Aunt Flow. God forwarded me your messages since I am really the one you need to talk to about this. Let me break this down for you in simple, honest terms. Every month for the better part of your life, I am going to creep up on you, make you cry at the drop of a hat, make you and everyone else around you think you are crazy by causing you to be moody and whacked out. You will have an overall irrational view of the world and everything around you. I will make you eat a ridiculous amount of salted chips and/or chocolate, causing you to gain the same 5 pounds you just worked for the past 3 weeks to lose. I will then find the most inconvenient time of the month to make you bleed like crazy while making you feel like you're going to give birth to your uterus itself. (I especially like to do this to you when you are going out of town on vacation, traveling on a plane, long road trips, etc.) When that is all done, and you feel like you've been run over by an actual freight train, I will then leave you with one final gift of an end-of-cycle debilitating headache. I will do this every month until you are too old to care anymore. Now, do you still want to keep badgering God about this?
I can't help but wonder what Margaret would've thought about that letter. Would she have been so jealous of Gretchen Potter then? I think not. I think she would've laughed in Gretchen's face. She would've told her to take her belted Teenage Softies and put them where the sun doesn't shine. (Hey wait a minute, that joke doesn't apply here, because that's pretty much where she would be putting them...)
Another bone to pick - remember Laura Danker's character? You know, the one with the big boobs who everyone automatically thought made out with all of the boys because she developed prematurely? That was me. And I can assure you, I was most certainly not doing any of those things.
"Did you see Laura Danker come in this morning?" Janie asked.
"Which one is she?" I said.
They all giggled.
Nancy spoke to me as if she were my mother.
"Margaret dear—you can't possibly miss Laura Danker. The big blonde with the big you know whats!" "Oh, I noticed her right off," I said. "She's very pretty."
"Pretty!" Nancy snorted. "You be smart and stay away from her. She's got a bad reputation."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"My brother says she goes behind the A&P with him and Moose." "And," Janie added, "she's been wearing a bra since fourth grade and I'll bet she gets her period."
Chapter 11: A Letter from Laura Danker
Are you there God, it's me, Laura Danker. Yeah, remember me? The girl you made start her period at 10 years old and endowed with a 32D boobjob in the 4th grade? Not cool. I am barely old enough to wipe my own ass properly, let alone try and deal with this kind of bleeding. Now, not only do I look old enough to pose for Playboy, everyone automatically thinks I'm making out with teachers afterschool, when what I'm really doing, is playing with my Monchichi's and Fashion Plates, while nursing my cramps with a hot water bottle. You're lucky I still believe in a higher power after this cruel joke.
Laura Danker (not to be confused with Danke, which means thank you in German, which I'm sure you know already - but I'm trying to emphasize that I am not grateful. At all.)
Perhaps what girls these days need is a modern-day Margaret. Maybe I should pen the new Judy Blume-type book. I'm out of the loop though. I have all boys. What do I know about trying to clue girls in on how effing hard it is to be a girl. I don't know. All I know is we were misled by this book, and periods were misrepresented greatly. Maybe I should get to work on a book...Are you there God, It's me, DG...you've got some explaining to do...
|PMS..before during after: we aren't crazy..we're fucking uncomfortable and tormented. Got it?|