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fecal womanhood. Sunday, Sept. 27, 2009 11:00 PM After the first bowel movement at the start of my period, I stare into the toilet bowl. No matter how much it stinks, no matter the mess I make, no matter the pain of the cramps or the inconvenience of the whole thing, I revel at that sight, at the shit and the blood. Every month, I silently crow as I see strings of uterine lining hanging off of the toilet paper, as I have to spend five whole minutes wiping it all away. It means I'm not pregnant. Every month, a blessing. |