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PMS
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Even before I open my eyes, I know that today isn’t going to be a good day.

My limbs are sore, I’m sweating like a roasting pig, and a dull ache in my lower abdomen intensifies with every breath I take.

Summer sucks.

The summer vacation started off with the delightful (and I use this term sarcastically) news of receiving my first period.

Mom gave me a long speech about becoming a woman and all I could think about is how to get rid of this supposed “gift”.

After the first day I’m ready to drink a sex-change potion, if there is one, and become a man. And to think that the dreaded thing will last up to a week. Gah! I can’t even stand it for seven hours, let along seven days.

The clock hanging on my wall reads 5:49.

What an ungodly hour to be awake.

I flip over to lie on my stomach, hoping to ease the pain. Instead, it only gets worse. Oh fucking hell.

Even when I’m in school, I’m never up before 7:00. It isn’t because I’m too lazy to get out of bed; I simply don’t have a need to get up early.

I’m not blessed with a gift for doing makeup and hair nor am I cursed with the obsessive need to look perfect, so I sleep in while my roommates run like chickens with their heads cut off to get to the mirror or the bathroom.

It’s damned amusing. Although, how can a chicken do its makeup and hair when the head is cut off?

Or would that be feathers instead of hair?

I really am going insane.

“O that this too, too sullied flesh would melt, thaw or dissolve itself into a dew.” It’s a quote from a muggle play, by a man called Shakespeare. It seems rather fitting in this situation.

Wouldn’t it be nice just to melt away into dew? Maybe if I think about it long enough, it will happen.

Yes! It’s happening, my butt already starts melting. I feel my panties growing damp, must be the fact that it’s turning into a dew! Wait, damp?

I jump up from my bed and look down at my sheets in horror as a blood-red stain sinks into the lavender cotton.

Damn it! Those are my favorite set!

Fuck! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!

Huh - my cursing ability has certainly improved.

This is horrid. No, it’s beyond horrid.

I hate this! I hate the weather and how it makes me sweat. I hate this damn sticky feeling between my legs. I hate the sodding pain in my stomach. Oh, but I really, really hate boys right now.

How come they don’t have to go through this? It just isn’t bloody fair.

George and Fred must be up because I can hear their footsteps next door. Good god, are they elephants? There’s no need to stomp. What the fuck is their problem?

Oh, great. Now one of them is taking a shower. I can tell by the creaking of the pipes. Why in the bloody hell are they up at this hour?

Someone is knocking on my door. I get up with great difficulty and open it.

“What?” I snap when I see Fred.

“Just wondering if you changed your mind about coming with us.”

“To?”

“The theme park George and I are going to. Remember? I asked you yesterday and you said no?”

“And what makes you think I changed my mind?” I really don’t want to be rude to him; he is my brother after all. But can’t he see that I’m in distress here?

“There will be rollercoasters.”

He says it as if it might mean something to me. He’s sadly mistaken.

“No! And leave me the fuck alone!”

“Fine.” He turns and walks back to his room without another word.

Whatever. Like I care if his precious feelings are hurt. He doesn’t know what I’m going through.

Theme park? Why the hell would I want to go?

Let’s put it this way: I’m tired, I have really bad cramps, and my favorite sheets are stained.

I just want to soak in hot water - despite the horrible weather, hot water is the only thing that will help the pain - and sleep. Rollercoasters? No thanks.

I've never seen the point of them anyway. Why pay to feel nauseous and have the shit scared out of you?

I lie back down on my bed. I’ll take care of the sheets later. I'm too tired to do anything but sleep.

Wonderful: Ron’s up too. I can hear him moving around in his room, when did my brothers turn into elephants? How come I didn’t get the memo?

Oh, sodding hell! Mom is now knocking on my door.

Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll leave me alone.

Huh, this actually works.

No, it doesn’t work. She migrates to Ron’s room and the two of them start talking. Talking in loud voices. In loud voices which give me a headache.

“Shut the fuck up,” I mumble.

Life really hates me. Fred and George are calling for dad.

“Shut the fuck up!” Decided that yelling it aloud may not be a good idea with mom next door, I scream the words into my pillow.

Oh, shit on a stick. I hear a whoosh and someone is in my room.

“Ginny Weasley,” The person hisses in a really irritating voice. I don’t bother to turn and see who it is. It would take too much effort.

All I want is some peace and quiet. Why can’t I get that?

Which part of “shut the fuck up”, don’t these people understand?

“I…” Oh sweet Merlin, he’s talking again! Argh!

What is his problem? Doesn’t he know that his voice is damn annoying?

That’s the last straw. I've lost it. I can't take it anymore. My sanity just snaps.

“Shut.” I pick up on wand from my nightstand. “The. Fuck.” I raise my wand. “Up!”

A light shoots out of my wand and knocks the person out of my window – the one he broke when he entered.

I walk over and peek out. There he is - the bastard with the annoying voice…wait, is that You-Know-Who?

Wow… I knocked You-Know-Who out cold. Huh, his neck is at an interesting angle and…what's that white thing poking out of his neck?

Dad, Fred and George are looking up at me and shouting words I can’t make out.

“Shut up!” I yell to them and return to my bed.

Hmm - sleep good. Sleep is very, very good.

Later, when I wander into the kitchen for food, a group of reporters surrounds me.

They ask me questions like how do I feel being a hero and do I have any comments for my peers.

Only one question catches my attention. “Is there anything I want now that I’m a hero?”

“Menopause,” I answer and push the crowd away to get to the kitchen.

There’s some ice cream in the freezer. I guess today isn’t so bad after all.

~ END ~