I’m not feeling very funny today because I’m depressed about my superpower.

You see, for the past two years I’ve had a superpower. I always wanted to have one, but when I finally got it, well, it wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for. It just figures I’d wind up with something embarrassing and stupid instead of cool and sexy like Wonder Woman, or Batgirl, or Buffy.

You see, I’m Period Woman and my super power is the ability to bleed from my uterus every two weeks without dying.

I suppose my superhuman bleeding would be a little more intimidating and impressive if I had AIDS or some other dreaded disease, but I don’t and so I’ve got nothing. “Get back Joker or I’ll bleed on you!” doesn’t carry quite the same clout as “Get back Joker or I’ll beat the ever loving shit out of you!”

It just doesn’t.

It would be somewhat of a consolation if I got to wear a sexy and sleek costume like Wonder Woman’s. But Period Woman’s costume involves elastic waisted sweatpants, complete with a rope holster made of tied together tampons for holding my bottle of Midol, my supply of chocolate bars, and my knife in case I have to shank some motherfucker. My cape is made of maxi pads with wings pasted together by their adhesive strips and I have an empty potato chip bag with eye holes cut out for a mask.

I tried to jump out of my bathroom window to see if I could fly, but I can’t because I’m too heavy from all the water retention. 

At least my padded cape broke my fall and I escaped without injury.

I suppose having a sexy costume is right out anyway because I look more like The Tick than Wonder Woman.

Nobody wants to see The Tick in Wonder Woman’s outfit.

Nobody.

In case you were wondering, my other superpowers include:

  • The ability to poof out and break out 6 times more than normal thereby giving me the appearance of a Puffer Fish. This could explain why I hate myself and think I’m Fatty McFatFat all the time.
  • Instead of being smart and powerful, I am always confused and weak from hormones and blood loss.
  • Extreme mood swings so I don’t know if I want to hug you or rip your ugly fucking face off.
  • Fat Albert style eating binges.
  • Irrational behavior such as signing the signature pad at the grocery store’s self check out “fuck you” because it wouldn’t accept my coupons, or yelling out of my car window “nice directionals ass munch!” at some old lady in a Buick Skylark.

These are not things superheroes are typically seen doing.

I’ve tried to give my superpower back, but nothing I try seems to work. I went on the pill, which does work, but it turns me into a Frigid Woman instead of Period Woman which is really, very bad because my husband acts like a Super Dickhead when he’s not getting any and that winds up making the Play Through more the rule than the exception and that’s not ok because it’s not recommended for use all the time.

Only sometimes.

I’ve considered going to some dirty hippy an herbalist or something for help but they’ll probably just tell me to drink some sort of tea that smells like feet and tastes like Satan’s semen 39 times per day and I don’t know, but I think I’d rather just bleed to death in that case.

I’ve tried to reason with my uterus, but that didn’t go well.

I’m all like, “Uterus, There’s no need for this. Please be reasonable.”

and she’s all “Bitch, I do what I want. I’m a uterus.”

and then I’m all “I’ll suck you out with my Dyson right now if that’s how you’re going to be about it.”

and she’s all, “fuck off. I’ll bleed right now if you don’t quit buggin.”

and I’m like “bring it on!”

and she’s like “fine I will.”

And the whole thing just goes nowhere and I wind up punching myself in the tummy and people stare at me and it’s just not behavior befitting a superhero.

To say the least.

So I guess I’m just stuck with this superpower for better or worse.

I guess all superheros feel burdened by their superpowers sometimes don’t they?

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