Gurl PowR!
It feels like someone has used your large intestine to tie up all your other organs until they all threaten to pop right out of you. You and Gina are convinced that the stomach explosion scene from that alien movie is really just a symbol for how it feels to have your period. Not like you'd be caught dead watching a movie like that though. You kind of had to see it since it was at Gina's little brother's birthday party and you were stuck as the chaperones for a bunch of bloodthirsty adolescent boys. Still, you remember that scene.
Ow! Fucking cramps! That one nailed you right under your ribs. Ok, Walgreens can't wait.
You turn abruptly on the street, nearly knocking over an elderly woman who gives you a classic disapproving-old-lady-look, which you duly ignore. It's so hot, your feet are already beginning to slide around in your pumps. Ugh, you HATE sweating! There is nothing grosser than sweating! There are certain things you really want to take God to task on: namely, sweating, body hair and untimely vaginal odors.
You purr like a kitten as the air conditioning in the store soothes your charbroiled body. What a relief! You make a beeline for the feminine aisle (which is really more like half the store) and find your PMS-killing drugs.
You notice two other people in the aisle. One is a rather tall, rather ripped, rather hot little hottie. The other is a sad and frumpy-looking girl in glasses floundering next to the maxi-pads. You really do need to get going to work, but a little chat with one of these two wouldn't kill you.
Ow! Fucking cramps! That one nailed you right under your ribs. Ok, Walgreens can't wait.
You turn abruptly on the street, nearly knocking over an elderly woman who gives you a classic disapproving-old-lady-look, which you duly ignore. It's so hot, your feet are already beginning to slide around in your pumps. Ugh, you HATE sweating! There is nothing grosser than sweating! There are certain things you really want to take God to task on: namely, sweating, body hair and untimely vaginal odors.
You purr like a kitten as the air conditioning in the store soothes your charbroiled body. What a relief! You make a beeline for the feminine aisle (which is really more like half the store) and find your PMS-killing drugs.
You notice two other people in the aisle. One is a rather tall, rather ripped, rather hot little hottie. The other is a sad and frumpy-looking girl in glasses floundering next to the maxi-pads. You really do need to get going to work, but a little chat with one of these two wouldn't kill you.