Dear Period,

In preparation for you impending visit tomorrow, I have set up your guest room just the way you like it. There’s a high cotton count waiting for you in the bathroom closet and assorted chocolates and salty snacks in the kitchen. Over the course of our 12 (or is it 13?) year relationship, I’ve come to know exactly what to expect with you.

But I have some complaints. I know we all strive to grow and change so I’m hoping you’ll take these grievances — recommendations, if you will — into consideration in advance of our next visit.

Let’s talk about the day before your arrival. I don’t understand your insistence in making me an emotional basket case. I don’t appreciate the happy one minute, annoyed the next, followed by tears of…of what? That’s the thing, P, I’m not crying over anything in particular…I just am! Poor Michael. One minute he’s holding is calm and collected wife in his arms and the next she’s threatening a very painful hair removal in his sleep if he doesn’t wash the dishes right this very minute.

Tomorrow won’t be so bad. There will be the initial, “Oh hey, nice to see you, I was hoping you’d show up,” followed by the quick transition to, “OK, you can go now.”  You’re a real pain in the ass on that day — or should I say pain in the stomach omigod. Why do you like to kick me in the uterus? Why, P?

Oh yeah one last thing. I’d really appreciate it if you’d refrain from bringing Doritos into my home. At 150 calories a serving, 12 servings in a bag and many, many, Doritos now missing, one can only assume that my thighs may give you a beat down if you’re not careful. I tell you this for your own good.

That’s all I have to say to you, P. I hope you take all this information to heart so that we can continue to have an amicable, if slightly strained relationship.

Now please excuse me while I wash the Cool Ranch crumbs off my fingers.

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