As I’ve been immersing myself further and further into
the rabbit hole patiently and sanely learning everything I can about fertility, I have been learning a lot of abbreviations and acronyms. I won’t go into all of the ones I’ve learned lately, but one of the more prominent ones is AF for Aunt Flo. Your period. Get it? ‘Cause her name’s Flo?And she’s visiting your…tampon? Anyway. I digress.
I was thinking about my last post, and I have decided to reclaim the name of my period. Why the hell not. Aunt Flo just doesn’t seem to properly describe the way I feel about my period. Aunt Flo is a name you give to an old relative who annoys you, pinches your cheeks, and visits, like, every month. My period is a 23 year old flake who may or may not snort coke on the weekends. She rarely if ever shows, and whenever she does, I find myself in a tizzy. I become the shy junior high school girl with low self esteem who would do anything to be liked by her. “You want to sit on the quad and have lunch? With me? Sure!!!!! You want to play “guess my bra size” and embarrass me in front of two really hot 8th graders??? Sure!!!!!”
I have named my flow, Second Cousin Florentina From Florence (SCFFF). She’s Italian (I have absolutely not one single drop of Italian blood in me, but who’s counting?), tans easily, and is always gesticulating. She does a hair flip beautifully, never stays for long, and kisses you goodbye on both cheeks. Her English is endearingly broken and adorable. You don’t know when you’ll hear from her again, but when you do, she will tear through your shit like a bat out of hell, leave her hair all over your bathroom, and leave a few empty bottles of wine on the outside patio set you bought at Target because it was on sale. When she visits, you have a mixture of annoyance, relief, and love…it’s an ever so dysfunctional relationship.