Life / Sex & relationships

App Maker, App Maker, Make Me an App!

I need to talk about menses.  I don’t need to talk about menses in detail, so you can read on knowing that I won’t be using descriptive language.  Also, I will not be talking about the feminist politics of menstruation or the relationship of the menstrual cycle to the moon or other spiritual connections.  Nor will I present the pros and cons of menstrual cups or the brilliance of this spoof ad:

No, I need to talk about how we ladies need to come out of the closet as menstruators with all of the hormonal baggage that accessorizes us.  I confess that the week before my period, I am exceptionally unpleasant.

I have an app on my smart phone that allows me to track my period.  It’s not the best app for me because it was clearly designed for women who are trying to get pregnant.  If I’m late a day or two, I get a message that says, “Your period is 1 day late!” with an exclamation point as if to say, “This could be the month that the sperm finally made contact, and your fertilized zygote snuggled itself up into the lining of your uterus setting the wheels in motion for a life of sleep deprivation, poverty and regrets.  Fingers crossed!”

I never had the need for such an app in our child-making phase.  We had doctors and transducer probes and pee sticks.  I’d track my period on my own calendar anticipating the next ovulation date.   I was very intimate with my folliculi, not to be confused with Funiculi, an opera about a cable car.

Now that I am past my procreating days, I track my period for the good of everyone around me.  As politically incorrect or anti-feminist as it may be to admit, the days prior to my period bring out the ugly in me.  I become impatient, irritable, highly sensitive and voraciously hungry.

“Yes, I ate the last 12 double chocolate cookies, and I polished off the entire family size jar of salsa along with the pound of tortilla chips.  So?!?” 

It’s amazing to me how many years a lady can menstruate and still forget one month to the next what it feels like to ride the hormonal roller coaster.  But I forget.  And when I snap at the kids for complaining about their dinner options or go postal on Gabriella for leaving a water glass upstairs, it’s good for me to know that my hormones may be fucking with me.  Now, my friends, this is where I confess that I don’t always share this information with my family.  THEY don’t need to know why I’m acting like Cruella Deville, but I need to know so that I can take the appropriate measures; go for a walk, call my sister and vent or have a box glass of wine.


I could do without the hopeful messages from my baby-making app.  Why hasn’t anyone created an app that tracks all the periods in a given household?  The closest thing I could find was I am a Man app that tracks a man’s girlfriend’s or girlfriendS’ periods.  This simply will not do for a lesbian couple or a parent of female children or brother of many sisters or a sister of many sisters or sister wives or… you get the picture.  I’m sure our boys would download such an app for their own well-being once they make connection between menses and mean-mommy.

I realize I run the risk of writing myself out of fame and fortune now that I’m giving up this idea to anyone who has the cash and legal knowledge enough to patent and produce this app.  It’s happened before.  My icepack bra for menopausal women suffering from hot flashes. My delicate trimmer designed specifically for lady grooming.


There have been many.  In this case, I just want the app. Between you and me and the lamppost, Gabriella is not such a saint every day of the month, either, and I’d like to be prepared for her wrath.  Help me!!

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  1. haaaaaaa! Worth the wait to read! And EFF YES! We need an app for this. Can you imagine if it had options like “notify friends you have PMS” or “Find ice cream coupons” or “Cancel all plans”


  2. Just be glad your children are boys. I had a co-worker with a wife and three teenaged daughters and once a month, all their periods synchronized. It was hell week at home.

    • I’m not sure which is worse – one synchronized week of hell or unsynchronized, never-ending purgatory. I now see the merits of boarding school.

  3. Vikki — are we still synced? (like, next week …?)

  4. Must include “warning! Back away from everything salty and crunchy,” about ten days before you are due to start. Also, I’m in peri menopausal ridiculousness, too. I seem to get a regular period for three or four months in a row, then skip one, giving me false hope that this might someday actually stop.

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