A letter to my uterus

Dear Uterus,

My trainer asked me to write a letter to you. I repressed all but the slightest eye-roll. I made snarky comments. He pointed out that I have an "adversarial" relationship with my body. I agree. I tend to ignore it when it works and get angry with it when it doesn't perform properly or becomes injured. Yep. I'm a bad owner. I think this was supposed to open up some kind of metaphorical dialogue between us. He seems to think YOU have been abused by years of my heartless application of birth control pills and painkillers. That your cramps have been a plea to be heard. That what is going on now, this fun, month long crampfest (with bonus bloating and hormonal crying fits) you've embarked on, means I really need to listen to you and try to understand what you need. That it is a cry for help.

Unfortunately, I don't care. If you had plans to lovingly gestate children and the week I turned forty you finally realized that was never going to happen and are throwing a tantrum, grow the hell up. Sorry, but you landed in the wrong girl. Never wanted kids. Never. I knew that at age ten. So you've had thirty years to get used to that idea. If you filled yourself with fibroids as some kind of revenge I have bad news for you. You are SO expendable.
Don't get me wrong. I'm really hoping we can work this out. And by work this out, I mean "you will go back to quietly sitting there making a period once a month and otherwise leave me the hell alone."

And really, I feel like I have made more than enough concessions. In the last year and a half I lost 30 pounds. I started eating healthy. I exercise regularly. You are currently lodged in a much better environment than you ever had probably hoped for.  And how did you repay this effort? By starting a riot in my abdomen. And the fact that I haven't been able to have sex since you started this whole kerfluffle REALLY isn't earning you any points. I am just that much MORE cranky.

In an effort to appease you, I stopped taking birth control pills (which I really liked, by the way. Aside from that whole "not getting pregnant" thing, there was also knowing almost to the HOUR when my period was going to start and knowing it was going to be short) AND for the last month I have been letting a Chinese doctor poke needles into my ears, toes and other random places in an effort to get things "flowing" again. I have used the word CHI in a conversation with a straight face. Hell, even as I write this, I am choking down a mug of "herbs" mixed specifically to create and nurture a happy and functional reproductive system. And, as I mentioned before, I don't even want to reproduce!. And as if that weren't enough (which it obviously isn't), as of last week, in a last ditch effort to make some  kind of peace with you, I gave up alcohol, caffeine, sugar and flour. Do you know what that LEAVES? About 3% of the grocery store.  I gave up WINE. All this to placate you .

And not to be petty but YOU were the one that started it. From my very first period you have unleashed brutal cramps upon me. I can remember having to go home in JUNIOR HIGH because my cramps were so bad I couldn't function in class. If you'd wanted me to care a little more about your feelings, perhaps you shouldn't have created a situation in which my feeling were, "ow ow oh god ow I need advil oh ow where is the heating pad?" I put up with TWENTY EIGHT years of that crap.

Well guess what? I'm over it. It is ultimatum time.  If you refuse to desist in this behavior I will have you surgically escorted from the body. Do not even think I am bluffing, I'll do it. I have several friends who have had hysterectomies and, while the surgery itself was painful and unpleasant, they are all doing JUST FINE now. And guess what? Not ONE of them misses their uterus. Not one little, teeny bit.

So here's my offer. You knock this crap off and you get to live. Otherwise in a month or two you will be just that much more medical waste.

I am so not bluffing.

Signed,

    The bitch who owns you