WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS MATERIAL OF A HIGHLY SENSITIVE AND MISLEADING NATURE. SERIOUSLY, DON’T READ THIS.

“Hi. My name is Peri, I’m here to signal the end. The end of all you once held dear…. Like peace of mind, and clean underwear. I’m outrageously behaved and will make you so hot! Wanna get fucked up together?”

It’s a New World. A world of significant change in your body and your soul.

It’s like puberty, but not anywhere near as exciting. No pimply boyfriend waiting to hear if your late period has arrived yet? (In fact, nobody seems concerned about your late period at all anymore?) You just go through all the motions, the cramps, the bitchiness, the waiting….

You decide, (with all your Google inspired research) that *last month was in fact YOUR LAST PERIOD EVER.

*A menopausal month may last anywhere between 2 weeks and 6 months.

In celebration, you dress in your newest underwear, and white skirt. As a nod, you might wear a pretty red blouse, signifying your respect to all those still under chains.

You might make it a good 3 feet before your uterus explodes. (Trust me. Peri loves a good joke.)

Recently, someone suggested the use of a Moon Cup? “Moon Cup?” I google to myself. “What is this sorcery?”

Having checked it out and guessed my requirements, it turns out that I need a cup roughly the size of the of the 30 oz cup peri-diabetics use at MacDonald’s.

Now I may have had a few children push their box heads through my sacred passage, but as to whether I want a giant goblet shoved up my deepest resource?

I say NAY.

Talk about Big Gulp…. how does Big Heave sound? There is no way, just no way I’m going to thrust a cup into my Vajajay, trusting it to just hold there, full of my womanliness. What happens when you sit down? What happens when you bend over?

I think you can imagine without me having to “go there?”

I don’t care what teenagers with Lovely-Lady-Passages say, these “Moon Cups” are not for serious contenders. Obviously.

A lot of people may think that dry skin is a symptom of ill health, or old age (in a woman of 47 such as myself). In truth, it is simply a bi-product of spending 90% percent of your life scrubbing stains out of clothing, underwear and bed sheets. There is currently no sanitary product on earth capable of containing my visits from Aunt Flo.

Along with all these pleasant effects? You also get to develop the personality of Linda Blair in “The Exorcist.”

Your head spins, you spew out obscenities, and stabbing is the new cuddling. You wake up in the middle of the night with hot wax poured all over your legs, torso, neck and face.

“Oh? It isn’t hot wax?”

“It’s a HOT FLUSH you say, Dr VagSmiter?”

Let me tell you where you can flush it then?

Try this if you want to know how it feels:

1. Have a shower and go to bed all cool and temperate.

2. Toss and turn until you achieve level 1 sleep. (That which can be disturbed by a moth-wing flutter.)

3. Cover yourself in flames that build slowly from the top of your thighs, through your middle, spreading upwards to the chest, neck and face.

4. Rip your face off, scratching and clawing at the invisible crawlies creeping on your skin. (Achieve Level 2 Crackhead)

5. Have dream you are afloat in liquid.

6. Wake up afloat in liquid.

7. REPEAT NIGHTLY.

HA HA HA HA – kill me?

Of course Peri isn’t just for YOU – Peri is here for the WHOLE FAMILY to enjoy. He knows how much your husband and kids depend on you to be a psychotic mother and wife. He won’t stop until he has undermined your relationship with every single member of your family. He enjoys conflict, anxiety, discomfort, instability and many more fun activities.

Let’s have a look at Things I have said this week.

“Why don’t I just BUY UNDERWEAR WITH FUCKING BLOOD STAINS on it?” – To Fitty.

“I’m not a bitch! It’s hormones coming out of my mouth.” – To anyone who will listen.

“So help me if you even look at me like you’re going to talk during this show? I’m going to stab you.” – To Fitty

“Why don’t you EVER LISTEN TO ME?” To nobody, obviously!

“I was listening to you, but you are so fucking boring I just stopped.” Yup – Fitty.

“I’m not the only clumsy fucker around here, so for fuck’s sake, pick that shit up before somebody DIES!” – To shit left on floor. (Nobody was even home!)

“What in the FUCK do you think you’re DOING?” – To anyone doing anything.

It’s okay though. I’m fine….. really!

I just know that in another 30 years or so, I’ll  be dead, and I won’t be bothered by any of this anymore.

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