Ladies, we all know.

These are always days of each month during which I hate womanhood. And also the accompanying nerve dysfunction of everything between the waist and asshole which, for a week or more,  surrounds an already unpleasant event.
Really, though — think of this in a clinical way. Imagine everything that lives between those aforementioned two points. Every aspect of digestion, menstruation, libido, and the always- funtastic pelvic muscle spasticity (I had always wondered why I often walked on my tiptoes: a spastic, ataxic gait!). While essentially both pointless and unladylike to go into detail on this cacophony of physiological slurs, I felt a certain series of urges which are at least minimally sated once I tell the world all about my genitals and rectum.
::doffs cap::
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