The Inevitable Visit from "Aunt Flo"

As a woman I am NOT accustomed to waiting with hopeful expectation for “Aunt Flo” to pay her monthly visit.  Like most women it is a most dreaded time and one of few times I don't like being a girl.  While I am attending to my monthly,  I would prefer to stay home for a couple of days dressed in old sweatpants eating dark chocolate & Cheetos and drinking wine to numb the pain.  About the only time most women find themselves eagerly awaiting the return of the monthly curse is to make sure there is not a bouncing oops-a-baby in the near future.

This, however, is not always the case with cosplay girls. 



WWII Bomber Pilot Robin

As I sit here writing, I am hyper-aware that today marks the 7 day countdown to a big Comic-con I am preparing to attend.  During this Con I will be debuting my latest and greatest design, an awesome WWII inspired Robin, along with my oldest daughter as my WWII Paratrooper Batman counterpart.  My costume features form fitting pants, red steel boned under bust corset, and an ammo belt which is to ride low on my hips.  Of course, the timing couldn't be any worse as I also begin to notice those little signs that my not-so-beloved Aunt may be on her way with her affection for puffiness, bloating, and bitchiness.  I cannot tell you how stressed I am about this as the days tick by.  The last thing I want is to prepare to wow the crowds as a smoking hot Robin and come off more like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.

I work out regularly, but I am a woman in my 40s and can be very self-conscience about extra pounds showing up here and there.  Especially AFTER I spend months constructing a new costume.  Every event I attend, I find myself on the show floor in full costume alongside 20-somethings who are the picture of perfect health and physique.  I am not very easily intimidated but I am aware that I am not a spring chicken and have birthed a couple of children.  Ok, maybe I am easily intimidated, but you have to give me props that I can still do this at my age.    

Just for shits & giggles I decided to mention my dilemma to my daughter and her reaction was about the same…at first she laughed at me…then I could see reality set in on her face…she was counting days too. After all, there is that whole synchronized periods issue with women in the same house.  Don't hate me, but I had to smile to myself when I saw the realization come into her eyes.  At least I wouldn't be alone in my misery.

 

So for the rest of the week I will sit here with my fingers crossed praying that Aunt Flo shows up and leaves on time…and the rest of the week trying to count how many days I have left before I am and out of Puffiville.  But just in case, wish me luck that in all my suffering and impatience I do not choke out some 20 year-old skinnier-than-necessary Harley Quinn at the Con.