Spinster Bog Witch is the Ultimate Goal

Hi Darling Ones,

After a seven-month absence I am very displeased to announce the return of my period. Six days ago. It’s still going strong, with zero signs of letting up.

This is a real deal, crime scene in my underpants, cramps, cravings, and murder on my mind kind of period. Not the kind of spotty, wimpy, last gasps of an aging uterus my previous period was back in September. Instead, I’m dealing with the menstrual monkeyshines of a uterus that thinks it’s still young & virile and primed to pop out some progeny.

Silly uterus, those kinds of tricks are for kids.

Every time I get my period after I reach the six-months without an incident mark I feel like I’ve failed at spinstering. Menopause is the last thing I need to check off the spinster list.

Never-been married — CHECK
No children — CHECK
Greying hair — CHECK
Cat, yarn-based hobby, lives in a house made of cookies and candy — CHECK, CHECK, and CHECK.

I’m 97% sure once I go twelve consecutive months without bleeding I not only get to officially declare menopause, but I finally take my true form as a bog witch.

Spinster bog witch is the ultimate goal. It’s like rescuing Princess Peach, but better because all the hexes and curses I got locked and loaded will be unleashed upon all the fuckers who had the temerity to cross me. Quake in fear termeritites, none of you fuckers will ever have dry shirt cuffs for as long as you live.

Aside: When Sister #2 was here last week and I was whining about my derelict ice maker she asked me who I pissed off and if they might have cursed me with a constantly malfunctioning ice maker. If it was you, I am sorry. Please, please, lift the curse. I beg you.

As my menses continues to annoy the shit out of me after all these months, I keep being a little amazed that I put up with this bullshit for the last 36 years and never, not even once, did a murder. Though, I have committed untold massacres in my heart.

Bleh. I’m gonna go eat a salad and wish it was not a salad and probably sob through the competitive dominoes show because this not-quite bog witch knows how to party.

Your bloody valentine,
Jodi

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