Fiction – A Prose On Menstruation

“I must watch this IG video” I thought out loud.

Of course I did,in my sleep. I woke up to the feeling of hotness of my phone, I  left my data on all through the night.

“Don’t put your phone beside your head when you want to sleep” I can remember mother’s warning.

I know it is bad but one mistake will not lead to any medical issue but what do I know?

An undescribable wetness strikes me. There is only one thing that gets me to this state. I roll my eyes. Not you again! I lazily dragged myself from the bed. I had to change before my bedspread bears the scar.

It is sharp,words fail me. It is like someone twisting my stomach at will.The pain is unbearable. I know it is not every girl that deals with the pain but I do not envy them , I am just sad for myself. I read somewhere about hot water therapy. I struggled to get hot water in a bottle. It works midly , just like first aid to a serious injury.

Time to take action, I got into my towel but unknown to me it was like a tap today. Red marks all over the floor, confessing to the world it was that time of the month . Could it be any better? I rush to take tissue paper. Meticulously, I wipe the floor. I had to hurry before  “this girl is so dirty” spills all over my room.

I had my wuruwuru bath,splattered conditioner on my to mentally wash it. It was washday after all.

Nobody understands how I feel when ‘red is the colour’ . I couldn’t even get out of my towel. I took garri I just to give room for painkillers.

Painkillers are slow these days, always knocks me off. I slowly cave in to sleep. I still do not accept the explanation science provides everytime red is the colour.