Last year, when my menstruating was still regular and there was a blood drive at my high school, I couldn't donate because I was anemic. That had happened a couple times before. Heavy flow, not eating enough because of horrible cramps and nausea, I'd lose weight and become an iron lacking zombie with deep circles under his eyes.
Before that, the blood drive, in March when I was at Kerr, I was on my period. That was hell. But, when that stopped, I didn't bleed for a whole year after that. Which of course wasn't good, but I couldn't be bothered to give a **** because it felt so freeing not to have the monthly blood loss and dysphoria hanging over me. I'm never going to have children. At least, not of my own flesh and blood.
My woman's body may be fertile, able to sustain life, but my ****** will remain a barren thing.
And now, I bleed again for the second time this year. My body healed itself of what ever was ailing it, and I am stuck on the couch because it hurts to move and slouching to the side is the only position that will lessen the cramps.
But, the bleeding is slowing and the cramps only come in the morning and at night.
The whole ordeal makes me feel so much older than my almost nineteen years, though.
And it is a terrifying thing to be able to feel myself bleeding, but not being able to stop it.
It comes and goes of its own accord, leaving me sitting in front of the dryer and willing the old machine to go faster because I'm wearing the boxers I slept in last night and I want to shower.
Want to clean myself of the blood, dried and matted in my hair and on my thighs.
I want to listen to loud music while the water turns pink and finally goes back to clear.
I want to clean myself of the shame of not wanting to bear children with my perfectly healthy woman's body.
And instead revel in the freedom I will one day have from this fleshy prison.
Where there will be no more blood, and a scar on my stomach the only sign that I once was able to bring a new life into this world.
And I will not be ashamed.