The Uninvited Guest

Dear Aunt Flo,

It has come to my attention that the time for your next visit is near. I’ve made preparations, as usual — there’s chocolate in every room — but I still don’t feel ready. Are you coming more often of late? Please don’t think I’m hinting that you shouldn’t. It’s only natural you should come. I do have some questions, however, and I hope you can clear up these small matters.

I hate to ask this. I don’t want to accuse, but have you made a habit of switching out my pants for smaller ones? I only ask because each time your visit draws near I become increasingly convinced that I’m gaining weight. What’s odd is that my clothes seem to agree. I have to wear special jeans, because the ones I normally wear refuse to let me button them. Do you know what it does to a girl to be rejected by her pants? If you haven’t played this cruel prank, then please forget I mentioned it.

On a brighter note, I seem to be terribly sentimental about seeing you. I keep crying for no reason that I can see. Maybe certain things bring back memories from my past; things I can’t recall? Perhaps your memory is better than mine. Is there any reason you can think of that I should cry when someone says “chipmunk” or “bacon”? I also cried while watching an episode of “Saved by the Bell” today, and it took great strength just now for me to admit it. (Please don’t tell anyone.)

I’ve noticed that these worries have made me crabby. I snap at everyone in the house for things that normally don’t bother me. I have to wonder if you’ve figured out how to make me snappy before you come so that by the time you get here, I’ll be too tired to complain. It happens every time! But again, I’m not accusing.

I have to cut this letter short now, because you’ve requested that I gather a great amount of water, as you always do. It wasn’t much of a bother when I was younger, but in recent years, I have to admit, carrying it around has started making my back ache. What in the world do you need it for?

P.S.
I’ve been told by my elders that when you stop paying me visits, your older sister, Mena, whom I’ve never met, will replace you. I’m also told she is less predictable and more troublesome (sorry, their words, not mine). Does she really hate cold so much that she carries around a special machine that connects directly to Hell? They say she isn’t good at aiming it at herself and often blasts her host with it. If so, please inform her that I’m not fond of heat, nor of Hell, for that matter, and she can kindly leave me off her list.

P.S. again
Please bring your own chocolate. Talking about Hell made me cry, and now I’ve eaten what I bought for you.

Much love,
Rachel

~ by Rachel McMahon on January 21, 2014.