It’s Not You, It’s Me

Letter to The Universe My Uterus

Dear Uterus,

Fuck you.

Because of you I am swollen and sore and too full of cheese. My clothes are a bit too tight. I’m too hormonal to write.

Fuck you every month.

You know, on the one hand, your perseverance is admirable. Every month you are rendered useless and promptly* expelled, and every month you thicken once more, clinging to me desperately.

On the other hand, doesn’t that strike you as a little bit desperate? I mean, dude, let go already. Make a clean break. Come back at the right time. We both know I’m just not ready for the kind of commitment that you need. It’s not you, it’s me. (I know I’m coming off a little bit Bipolar right now but that’s only because I am Bipolar.) I’m just saying that I don’t understand why you keep pushing for something that’s just not ripe. Get a grip, Uterus because, frankly, I’m tempted to get a temporary restraining order.

Relaaax, I’m joking! I love you really, you know that. It’s just that it hurts so much when you go. Since we have to endure separation every month, you’d think that Mother Nature would have thought of a better, less painful solution by now. But no. As always, you let her get away with murder. I’m just saying that it would be lovely if you (a) arrived with less baggage and (b) departed with minimal torture.

I know you’re practicing for hosting a foetus and all that jazz, but do you have to practice so much? I mean, you’ve had over a decade to practice and guess what- no baby. I mean, jeez, we’re talking about a twenty year commitment that’s going to be rewarded with a drunken mistake. Yes, that’s right, I’m assuming you’ll become useful (re: play a role in conception of a human bean**) due to one of my drunken mistakes. Yes, ‘one of’, as in ‘there are many’. Let’s not forget to whom you belong.

I’m going to conclude this letter now. Did you think it was too long? Well at least I don’t write you one that takes you four days to read. Every month.

Where was I? Oh yes.

Fuck you,


*Not promptly enough, if you ask me.
** I know we’re human beings, I just like the word bean.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

11 thoughts on “It’s Not You, It’s Me”

    1. Haha, that’s ‘cos you’re a man! As a woman, there is plenty more to add! And to think: I’m one of the lucky ones; I get off pretty easy every month.
      No pun intended.

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