This grosses me out more than I can say.
I love having my period. I love overeating and I love lying around and I love the excuse to use a heating pad. Most of all, though, I love complaining. And I love that no one can tell me not to complain, because they're all too terrified that I'll fly into some hormonally induced homicidal rage.
Oh, but Jennie, you say. If you love your period so much, whatever will you do when you reach menopause?
I'll throw a party and buy all new underpants. Because then it will be time for not having my period, y'see. It will be not-having-my-period time. Unlike now.
In the meantime, however, I'd appreciate it if science would leave me and Aunt Flo alone.
Via Jezebel, which you need to start reading immediately.