v u l v a l i c i o u s
I Can't Stop Thinking About It
I realize I already talked about my blood once today, but I am just so very interested in it that it merits further discussion. Says me.
There is something intensely beautiful about the shades of red. Just amazing.
Endless streams of sticky, deep, pungent, perfect, life-filled blood. And life-filled. Yes. That's the word, I am certain.
More than regular blood, menstrual blood is just so loaded with potential. There, mixed in with only the smallest bit of real blood, is a nutrient rich lining. Enough to feed the start of a baby. Like life seeds.
And I sound like a NOVA special on the joys of menstruation, but it seems irrelevant.
To me, this blood holds a kind of power. It's a reminder of my strength, of my amazing inborn ability to do something fantastic. It binds me to women who lived thousands of years ago and women who will live thousands of years from now.
I picture my foresisters bleeding together, birthing together, laughing and nursing children and living together. Eventually dying together. I see the image of Judy Chicago's "Birth Tear" with a great opening gash spilling forth life blood.
The Earth, a mother, blood seeping out. Me, not a mother, but carrying the potential to be one; me, a mother to other things, to ideas and love and passion.
All from the redbrownbright stain that I am supposed to find shameful.
I love my cunt for bleeding. I love myself for loving my cunt. I will remember that my blood is good, and I will. not. be. ashamed.