Dear monthly guest,
It’s not me. It’s you. Something’s gotta give.
I consider myself to be a pretty hospitable person. I generally give people the benefit of the doubt when they don’t agree with me, and I have handed out so many extra chances in my life that I give worn doormats a run for their money. But I’ve had it with you.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that you make me insane. I become a certifiable nutcase when you rear your head. I walk off from cash registers without paying for my coffee and then tell the perplexed cashier that I, and I quote, “must have a case of the Mondays.” WTF, FLO. You make me sound like a Cathy comic strip. You make me believe that since I forgot to buy an extra half gallon of whole milk for the baby this week, she will have osteoporosis by the time she goes to kindergarten. Most recently, you convinced me that I was dying of cancer and had only three months to live. I don’t appreciate the lies you tell me, especially when they involve my slow, painful demise.
Who reads this? Source
Also, I will have you know that I love my kid more than anything else in the world and am doing everything I can to ensure that she gets the best of me. When you convince me that I’m not good enough for her simply because I don’t remember to brush her teeth every morning, you are not helping.
I always know that you’ll come, but you’re never on time. Never, ever, ever. You are consistently early or late. When you are late, you scare the piss out of me because I think you’re not coming at all and that another human who is bound to destroy any shred of sanity I have left is on the way instead. When you are early, I am never prepared for you. I didn’t go to the store to buy all that crap you always demand throughout your stay. You come when I’m wearing white leggings on my tan sofa. A little warning would have been nice, you destructive fiend.
You rob from me the only thing I can consistently look forward to: sleep. Sweet, luscious sleep. You drain me of all my energy throughout the day and then once it’s time for me to lay my head down and shut it all off, you keep me up all night worrying about my supposed case of the cancers. Not even coffee can counteract you.
And what the heck is going on with the acne? Last time you came, I got a giant volcano pimple in my armpit. My armpit. You are not allowed there, wench.
So we’re over. I’m fully prepared to get Depo shots and be done with you altogether. You have disrupted my life for far too long, and my husband agrees (although he’s too scared of me to actually admit it).
Peace out. Take your time on introducing yourself to my daughter, too.
Emily
♥
Like me on Facebook? You should totally like me on Facebook. It’s like a warm puppy in your heart. Or bacon. Or something.
The Waiting 
NEVER PREDICTABLE!!!!
…Sure, that giant zit and inexplicable mood swing might have been a clue, and okay, maybe I didn’t count correctly, but something’s gotta give!
The problem with the mood swings is that they convince me that an asteroid is heading towards Earth, not that I *might* be getting hormonal.
Haahahhahahaha! Ok, I missed this for a minute or two… thought we were talking about a nasty reader, then a relative… so sue me. Flo rider had been absent from my life since I met Mirena. After my 2nd kid, Flo just became too unbearable to deal with, after years of being on fairly good terms. This is brilliant, Emily.
Thanks, Dawn. I am really considering getting one. I am my own worst enemy when it come to Aunt Flo, and I need all the help I can get to stave her off.
May not be the best option for you: age, future kids, etc… but saved my life! Seriously.
My husband would like to forward this letter to Aunt Flo . . .
I think she has a PO box lives in Hell’s Kitchen, if he needs the address.
Yeah, that acne thing bugs me. I mean, by the time I hit my 30s, I thought I’d be done with it. Gah.
My Aunt Flo needs to read this.
I *hate* the acne. I cleared up when I was around 20, but since I had a kid it has come back in the weirdest ways. Hate it.
E.P.I.C. Thank you for putting into words how we all really feel. And if you wrote this while Aunt Flo was visiting, BRA-VO.
Thank you. This may be TMI, but I wrote this right when she dropped her bags in my living room. Expectedly, she wasn’t on time.
How is it that even though I expect her, I never know she’s coming? I always think, “Oh my goodness, I’m a raging lunatic. What’s wrong with me? Hide all the knives.” And then she shows up, and it all makes sense.
MIne is like clockwork, along with the insanity and the anxiety. Lately headaches have been added to the mix. It’s just generally a joyous time in my life that I really cherish and celebrate for all of my fecundity. That is, when I am not cataloguing all of my various cancers.
I have noticed that mine have been so unbearable since I had a baby. I think Flo is trying to outdo my uterus.
It would be nice if you could just keep that thing in a suitcase until you needed it. Alas.. medical science doesn’t seem to have the same priorities as me.
Ow! I’m laughing so hard, my Cheyenne within is kicking me because I must be smacking her around with my abs, and my Sammy is asking me “what’s so funny?” I now think I’ve woken up BF as well. The lols were well needed.
By the way, that’s an evil location for a pimple. I would freak out myself!
I am so glad I gave you a case of the lulz ;D Also, yes, it WAS an evil location. I thought I had, like, a boil or something at first. WTF.
:D I don’t thimk I would have handled that very well myself! My boyfriend reicently had outpatient surgery for a cyst in his arm. That would have been my go to thought! It’s a very wtf!
Every female (and male who enjoys being around females) thanks you for this.
But do you thank me for it, Lyssa? That’s all I want in this world ;D
I count as female last time I checked, so yes. :)
Awesome! I have stopped. Finally. I think. Nothing like getting a visit after eight months without. I used to think getting hot flashes was worse than get, you know, it. IT is much worse. My daugther, however, is scared to death hers will come any day. So am I.
I am so jealous of you.
Emily, I’ll take cramps over hot flashes any day. And the zits and mood swings just keep on coming with or without fertility, but with aging, your metabolism slows down and hence, your weight goes up. Upon reflection, I have concluded that physically, the best years of being female are those under age eleven. Consider Cee forewarned.
I completely agree with you. I will never forget the horror that was middle school sex ed. It’s all downhill after that.
One of the benefits of getting older–and there are a few here and there–is certainly the lack of the unwelcome visitor every few weeks. Even better than senior discounts, I think…
If I get to say adieu to Flo AND get a discount at Jiffy Lube, then sign me up for AARP ;D
That made me laugh so hard. So thank you putting into words exactly how every women feels.
My pleasure! Flo deserves a hearty “screw you!” every once and awhile.
I don’t even have words for how fabulous this is. No freakin’ words. Aunt Flo is the worst. She gives me a case of the cramps so bad they spill down my leg. What the eff is that about? Stupid bitch.
I *hate* her. With.A.Passion. The thing about cancer? That was real and it happened to me on Tuesday. She convinced me I was dying. Lying whore.
She’s certifiably pathological.
It wasn’t until I read some of the other comments that I finally twigged what you were referring to. If I ever tried to sneak into one of those women-only aerobics classes, I’d give myself away pretty much immediately.
Good post, it’s nice and witty once the penny drops.
My mom didn’t get it either when she first read it. She thought I was talking about someone in our family.
I love the way you start this letter, Emily. It’s not me. It’s you! Yes, yes. I’m going to use that Cathy line, “I must have a case of the Mondays.” Oh, I feel your pain. It doesn’t get any easier ever. It’s always a pain in the ass. I have a lot of trouble with insomnia, too. If it’s early/late and I have a wacky night of sleep, I always know then it’s coming soon. Do what’s right for you, whatever you decide.
Thanks, Amy! This post has been a loooooong time coming. I think it took me actually getting my period back after my pregnancy that made me realize how much I absolutely deplore it. I swear, it comes back in spades after pregnancy, as if labor wasn’t punishment enough.
Worst.Houseguest.Ever.
Don’t I know it. She doesn’t even bring a toothbrush.
And she leaves stains.
Emily, Thought you were writing about Flo, on that old TV show Alice, or some relative long forgotten. But, now I remember. Guess I never caught the name till now..
Hahaha yeah, this was kind of a secret code. ;D
I confess to not missing Aunt Flo AT ALL! She was always a busybody- troublemaker in my life. Right before her visit I could count on one sleepless night, feeling completely wired. And prior to her visit she always convinced me that I had absolutely no clothes, leading to impulse purchases to which Aunt Flo contributed NOTHING monetarily. Then the clothes didn’t fit bc I was Bloated. Because Aunt Flo.
Ugh, she ruins EVERYTHING. Not even kidding, I have not been on a vacation or trip in five years where she did not also tag along. (Except when I came home for my baby shower, obvs.)
Two word (well one word and an acronym) Mirena IUD – Aunt Flo stays away…. believe me – this is from a person that could feed a score of vampires….
I am seriously looking into it. Mine is out of hand.
I love it – I’ve never had any side affects – I can email privately with you about it if you want.
Um… that should read “two words”
This post is reason #726 why you’re my very FAVORITE blogger ever!
Awwww thanks, Ethel! If you need me to write any hate mail for your enemies, you know where to find me ;D
What makes Flo the snatchiest of all snatches to me is how much she likes to travel. She wedges her sorry ass in on sooo many trips. She’s been to Italy and Hawaii, among innumerable NYC’s and LA’s. She also likes weekends like nobody’s business. These things make her the most thoughtless wretch on Earth IMO. And the fact that the only way she’s satisfied is with McDonalds and Wingstop has her as Public Enemy #1 in my books. She’s all “Get me a quarter pounder, Hooker.” And I do—to silence her.
But as bad as she is, I think Oval’s the truly evil one because at least Flo shows her damn face. Oval is all, “Imma come see you about 2 weeks after Flo but instead of being up front with you, I’m just gonna make you think people are talking about you and make you insecure and emotional and encourage you to log on WedMD once or twice.”
Whew, sorry so long-winded … but yeah … we don’t like Flo (or Oval). Tramps.
OMG My Aunt Flo follows me everywhere I go toooooo! Not even kidding, in the last five years, she has shown up on every single trip and vacation I have gone on (that is, except when I was traveling to my hometown for my baby shower. Pfffffft.)
Oval is horrible too. I HATED having to take my temperature and all that mess when I was trying to get pregnant. My body is pretty much my worst enemy.
Amen! Aunt Flo had basically ruined my life every month for decades. I had finally had enough and had a hysterectomy when I was 39. Now she’s gone, gone, gone forever. Best decision of my life (course, now I have to face menopause, but that’ll never be as bad as Aunt Flo)
Oo, I’ve wanted to do this for ages but people said your hormones go crazy so I was worried. Is this true?
As a young person still facing Aunt Flo, it’s not the bleeding or the cramps that bother me, it’s the mood swings and the irritability that do. Normally, I am a stand up gal but when she’s visiting, I’m cantankerous and upset all the time. She always wants to get me mad on way or the other. If it isn’t before the period starts, it will be after. Argh.
Omg. Totally. I’ve been wanting to get it all taken out for ages, given that I shall never join the babymakers gang. But I do, thankfully, get some warning. When a picture of a cat in the newspaper puts me on the verge of tears, I know it’s almost time.