Mind Over Menstruation

Like Dexter Morgan, I too have a "dark passenger." She's unpredictable, over-emotional, foggy, bitchy, whiny, moody, and nearly impossible to control. Fortunately for my loved ones, she only visits once a month. She's known by many names to different women; Red Menace, Crimson Tide, Aunt Flow, The Rag, The Period. When she visits me, she might best be named "The Dark Side of the Moon," because she brings out the very worst in me. My cravings for sweets and salty treats are multiplied and I've been known to polish off an entire bag of Milano cookies in one sitting. I let the smallest things bother me until I'm rude and obnoxious to others, without even thinking about it (and when I think about it, I still feel okay about it). Sometimes my cramps are so painful, I allow them to interrupt my daily life. I've spent entire days curled up in bed, straight up hating life.

The biggest part of my struggle to maintain an exercise program has been seeing it through, especially during these desperately painful days. Saturday morning, I woke up and discovered my "little gift" had come right on time. Normally this would be a huge relief but I had made plans to take a Pilates class for the first time ever and I was not about to sit on my ass and set myself up for failure. My nearly twenty years of experience as a menstruating woman as taught me that while my cramps can be immobilizing, if I get myself out of bed right away before the pain comes, I can charge myself into superwoman mode. Then, I feel invincible and ready to conquer whatever physical challenges lie ahead. I have recently learned that this is actually a real thing, similar to a "fight-or-flight" release of adrenaline. I've also read that physical activity can help alleviate the pain of cramps as well. I made the decision that I am not going to allow my "lady time" to interfere with my life anymore.

Besides, I used to be a dancer. How hard could Pilates be? I had heard of Pilates for years and to the best of my knowledge, I understood it to be a series of movements similar to yoga or ballet, meant to lengthen and strengthen, making your muscles long & lean as in a dancer's body. Though I had given up on having a traditional ballet body years ago, when I stopped growing up and started growing out, I still hold dear my ballet instruction and regard it as the foundation for my posture, grace, and love of movement of all kinds. Plus, my amazing friend, Diana is a Pilates instructor so I knew I'd be in good hands. She's friendly, full of positive energy, and I couldn't wait to learn from her. It is worth mentioning that Diana's nickname amongst her clients is "The Punisher." I quickly remembered this and I made sure she was crystal clear about my "situation" ahead of time, with the hope that she'd take pity on me. I had no idea what was in store for me physically. Nothing could save my lady parts from the killer workout known as Pilates.

Through a simple misunderstanding, no doubt due to my monthly fogginess, I wrote down the wrong location so I arrived five minutes late for class. I was glad that I'd had the chance to speak with Diana in the car on the way there (hands free, of course) so she knew I'd be late and had everything setup for me. I hurried inside and immediately began taking off my shoes and socks, claiming a spot for my belongings along the wall. Barefoot and anxious, I stood up and faced the row of bed-like contraptions known as "Reformers," each with a young spandex-clad woman balancing on top. I gingerly took my place beside the empty torture device Diana had saved for me...in the very center of the row. No hiding in the back of the class in Pilates.

Diana was a fun and attentive instructor. She gave me a crash course on how the Reformer worked. I might best describe it as a cross between a rowing machine and a bed, with a movable section called the carriage that is flat instead of having a seat built in. The creator, Joseph Pilates, based his design on a hospital bed. Joseph was in England during WWI, working as a self-defense instructor for Scotland Yard detectives. He rigged springs to actual hospital beds so that bedridden patients could exercise against resistance. Let me assure you, his design works. I took a deep breath and jumped right in with the rest of the class. It seemed easy enough, familiar positioning, and then omigod. I felt the burn immediately. Thousands of tiny little muscles in my thighs, hips, and groin were working for the first time in years, a sharp muscle memory of the dancer I used to be.

Unlike other times I attempted to return to the world of dance, I didn't feel intimidated, I felt alive! Though my balance was a bit off, I figured out the Reformer as I went along and I just loved it. It felt so familiar and yet so new. I found myself doing the movements to the beat of the music. Even the clubs songs I'm forced to listen to late night at work were suddenly fun and motivating. I guess a little too fun because Diana had to remind me numerous times to slow down my movements to get the full effect. "You can't go slow enough. That's how you'll work those muscles." Then, she reminded the class to flex our ab muslces in order to protect the lower back. I listened and gave it all my all.

The next morning, I rolled out of bed as though my core were made of bricks. Muscles were sore that I'd completely forgotten even existed. My obliques had never been that sore! It was wonderful! I spent a good chunk of my Sunday, my favorite day off, reading up on the history of Pilates and the ins and outs of this amazing total body workout. By midday, I was convinced that Pilates was for me, and that I should never try something for the first time during my lady time. Ouch. My cramps were in full force and I didn't want to move. I setup camp on the couch and spent the day trying to talk my roommate and her boyfriend into fetching me things so I didn't have to get up. I allowed myself a much needed day to rest, relax, and recoop.

Then came Monday. Dreaded Monday. The day I told myself I had to "get back to work being the best me I can be." I simply didn't want to. I felt horrible and I was still sore from Saturday's masochistic Pilates class. I didn't even roll out of bed. I just laid there, whining to myself like a little baby. Then I realized I had to walk the dogs. So I bargained with myself and babystepped my way through the whole miserable day. I threw on some clothes, sunglasses, and took the dogs outside. Then, I got myself a latte to help wake myself up. I made a healthy and delicious breakfast and caught up on a few episodes of the Colbert Report. Then, I looked at the clock and reasoned with myself.

If I sit here, I'll just keep sitting here. I'll end up sitting here all day, just like yesterday. Do I really feel as bad as I did yesterday? No. Then, I need to get up. So, I did. I put on my workout clothes and shoes. I told myself I only had to do whatever I could. Making the effort was enough. The scheduled workout was Chest, Back, and Abs. I knew there was no way I was doing Abs but I would just do my best, and forget the rest. Those first ten minutes were a definite challenge. But wouldn't you know it, when my body got used to the level of activity, I pushed myself just as hard as I did the week before. I just focused on form, breathing ,and hydration. And when it came time for Abs, I felt good enough to do that workout, too! Doing the best I could, one thing at a time, changed my physicality, my mood, and ended up changing my entire day for the better!

I showered, ate a late lunch, and felt so good that I took the dogs for an additional and extended walk through my neighborhood park. Fall is my favorite time of year and it was the perfect Fall day, complete with lots of leaves and a slightly cooled breeze, rare in the Valley. I did some reading, watched House, and even felt good enough to start this blog. For the first time, I felt I'd handled my menstruation with balance and, of all things, logic. But above all else, I didn't let myself give up and that one decision made all the difference. My dark passenger is finally learning to ride shotgun and keep her damn dirty hands off the wheel.