It turns out I don’t want a purple hat,
Or a red dress that doesn’t go.
I just want to be completely done
With my monthly visit from Flo.

I am over producing progeny,
All my oats, I have sown.
Now for the special bonus round–
All systems shutting down!

I’m hot for no reason.
Today, I’m feeling stabby.
The Noxzema years are back,
And my hair is getting shabby.

Well, not all my hair,
That would be a silver lining.
The hair where I don’t want it
Is luxurious and shining.

You can tell me about dignity,
And post-40 freedom—that’s true.
But physically? This sucks a lot,
I hope it’s easier for you.

Doctors will mess with my ‘mones,
Heh… sort it out in a…flash,
But for right now I’m stuck–
Waxing my menostache.

Since poems about lady problems are super popular, I saved this one for the Sunday night dead zone.  I’m also at a point in my own lady journey where I don’t much care who likes it.  That said, here’s a *high five* for all the women.  You ladies are tough.