That time of the month

Squeamish boys, look away now. I’ve got some serious writing to do about a little regular visitor us girls get, crudely known as Aunty Flo’.

I am embarrassed to admit that just this Monday gone, I sat in my lounge room with two girlfriends and the other half, and I could not contribute anything of any worth to a discussion about menstrual cycles and general women’s stuff. My husband actually knew more than I did about the release of eggs and when the start of a cycle begins. CRINGE.

How could I possibly get well into my thirties and have no real clue about any of this stuff?

Sure, I did “Health” at school. But I’ve got a terrible memory. All I knew was that something definitely happened every month with eggs, and I was pretty sure that your eggs didn’t get fertilised in your fallopian tubes. And don’t even get me started on menopause, I’m still none the wiser about whether that happens because you run out of eggs or not.

Thank goodness for the internet *insert sound of angels singing hallelujah here*. Provider of all information, I bow to you.

But it did get me thinking. How many other things have I never bothered to find out about, or pay attention to, because I’ve been young enough for it not to be a concern?

I don’t really know how to read food labelling, despite working in the industry. I have no idea what level of fat, or salt, or sugar is acceptable. I don’t know whether I should be taking preventative supplements to counteract a drop in bone density, or wrinkles, or even have any idea to tell if I’m lacking in anything in particular (other than sleep, I could really do with more sleep).

So I have decided to take more of an interest in my body. Starting with my mind. Bedtime, anyone?

sleeping-lady

* Image courtesy of Stories, Lies & Biker Dives

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