Maybe it’s even natural.
If you follow the loons that believe in alt-med and homeopathy, you’ve probably heard something like the latter statement at the very least. Natural remedies, natural ingredients, natural natural natural. Of course, natural is meant to mean “good” here. Good, and normal.
Normal gets used a little differently. While ‘natural’ is a way to claim that entirely neutral (sometimes bad) things are good for you, ‘normal’ tends to be used to say ‘what is supposed to happen’, be the ‘normal’ thing good, bad, or fucking ugly.
You know. Racism? Normal. Cisnormativity? Normal. Heterosexuality? Normal. Religion? Normal. Carrying a rapebaby to term because abortion makes Jesus cry? Normal.
‘Normal’ is kind of just a fun way to say things like “shut up, this is how things are supposed to be” and “shut up, you shouldn’t be complaining”.
Now normally, I tend to regard arguments that involve something being ‘normal’ and ‘natural’ with general apathy. If a homeopath wants to sell his natural homeopathic arsenic antidotes, if a bigot wants to declare racism normal or homosexuality not, I’ll be more worried about the fact that they’re asshats than the words they use. I mean, they’re just words. Whether people think homosexuality is an abomination, or an abomination against nature isn’t too big a deal for me. I’ve just never felt that splitting hairs over word choice was an important thing to do.
Until now, anyways.
Some backstory: I take birth control to not have periods. Now, I’m not mentioning my need for it in the “I’m holier than all of you girls taking it for contraceptive purposes” way. I’m mentioning it because there’s a delicious bit of irony in it.
Because as a result of taking birth control to not have periods, I have had a period for two weeks now. I missed a pill, doubled up the next day (which is, for those of you who don’t take birth control, what you’re supposed to do), and continued on with life. Now, sometimes you get itty bitty babby periods because of this. Sometimes, maybe real periods.
But this time..
Two. Weeks.
And going strong.
I’ve started considering it a biblical flood, and I’m damned near tempted to start referring to tampons as “Falcor the luck dragon”. Maybe Artax, actually, because that shit is a veritable Swamp of Sadness.
Anyways, I wanted to make an appointment with my gynecologist because TWO FUCKING WEEKS.
The receptionist’s response? “Oh, that’s normal.”
Normal.
Now, my first response to this is that I do not fucking believe that this is normal. Nobody warned me of this side effect. I was told to take pills like this, not that doing so would unleash the fucking red sea upon me.
But the more I think about it, the more that that response seems silly.
Because as far as I’m concerned, I do not give a flying fuck how normal this is.
Let me reiterate; I’ve spent the last two weeks gushing blood from my crotch. I take medication so as to not have blood gush out of my crotch when it only lasts three to four days. Why the fuck do I care if it’s normal when it’s two weeks?
Of course, maybe the receptionist just meant “nope, you’re not dying” by “it’s normal.” Which is fantastic and all, but that doesn’t mean I’m fine with it. I still want it to stop.
I’ve got an appointment with my gynecologist next Thursday. My gynecologist is a man.
If he tells me that it’s normal that I’ve turned into a bloodgeyser, I’m going to be compelled to ask him when the last time that happened to him was. You know, considering how normal it is.
Or I’ll ask the last time he had to spend each day for two weeks dealing with the fun that comes with periods.
Or constantly having to worry in the back of his mind that Artax might be dead.
Like I’ve had to.
For two weeks.
But I should really just not be complaining about it. It’s, you know, normal. Natural.
Just like the buckets of period blood I’d love to collect and present to them if they tell me that.
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