Last night, right before I dozed off, a horrible thought ran through my head about being on the AZT!
What if I start my period during the night, asleep, in my tent, in the dark, where creatures that want to eat me lurk, where I can't find anything quickly and I'm completely out of my element?
My tent is a backpacking tent - you can't stand up in it. So doing anything that involves pulling down my pants will be done somewhere away from camp, well away from my tent. This involves the messy matters of my monthly.
I know what you're thinking, don't you track when Aunt Flo should be coming and prepare? I do and for the last few months she comes whenever she pleases.
It was one more thing the Perimenopausal Welcome Committee sent me. Because the massive mood swings and blood like I was losing gallons a day wasn't enough.
Yep. I'm worried about my monthly on the trail. This is what I'm losing sleep over.
Not mountain lions, rattlesnakes, scorpions, dehydration, getting hurt or hunger. Naw, no worry about those for the 800 miles of dirt, cactus and trees. I'm worried about Aunt Flo. (We even tried to name her something friendly to ease the pain she brings.)
I guess it's because I prepare. I mean I prepare HARD CORE. I have the capacity to carry 5 liters of water not the average 2 people seem to be taking. I have dehydrated veggies with me because I want to eat healthy. I have a paper map as well as 2 digital maps and a GPS with SOS capacity. I have 3 ways to clean my water. And definitely a robust first aid kit.
I'm prepared for the trail. But I'm not, let's say never, prepared for Aunt Flo's visits. She has a mind of her own.
OK. I don't want you to think I'm an idiot, I'm prepared. I have all the necessary feminine products. I just wish I knew when she'll ring my doorbell.
Image : https://unsplash.com/@taylorannwright
What if I start my period during the night, asleep, in my tent, in the dark, where creatures that want to eat me lurk, where I can't find anything quickly and I'm completely out of my element?
My tent is a backpacking tent - you can't stand up in it. So doing anything that involves pulling down my pants will be done somewhere away from camp, well away from my tent. This involves the messy matters of my monthly.
I know what you're thinking, don't you track when Aunt Flo should be coming and prepare? I do and for the last few months she comes whenever she pleases.
It was one more thing the Perimenopausal Welcome Committee sent me. Because the massive mood swings and blood like I was losing gallons a day wasn't enough.
Yep. I'm worried about my monthly on the trail. This is what I'm losing sleep over.
Not mountain lions, rattlesnakes, scorpions, dehydration, getting hurt or hunger. Naw, no worry about those for the 800 miles of dirt, cactus and trees. I'm worried about Aunt Flo. (We even tried to name her something friendly to ease the pain she brings.)
I guess it's because I prepare. I mean I prepare HARD CORE. I have the capacity to carry 5 liters of water not the average 2 people seem to be taking. I have dehydrated veggies with me because I want to eat healthy. I have a paper map as well as 2 digital maps and a GPS with SOS capacity. I have 3 ways to clean my water. And definitely a robust first aid kit.
I'm prepared for the trail. But I'm not, let's say never, prepared for Aunt Flo's visits. She has a mind of her own.
OK. I don't want you to think I'm an idiot, I'm prepared. I have all the necessary feminine products. I just wish I knew when she'll ring my doorbell.
Image : https://unsplash.com/@taylorannwright
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