Why I Think Werewolves are Real

I’m a 27 year old adult female that is mildly obsessed with societies recent fascination with vampires and mythical creatures. Vampires, Werewolves, fairies, wizards, witches and goblins.  Not one ounce of shame or fucks are given to anyone that has a condescending finger to point in my direction. It is my guilty pleasure, and I loooove it. Recently, while watching an Episode of Being Human (shout our to Sam Witwer’s mouth) I was hit with an epiphany. Werewolves are real. Allow me to explain.

His mouth is a thing of beauty.

Werewolves aren’t the way we hear about them in stories. They are very real, but transform into a different kind of monster. Werewolves are females during their period. The comparisons that can be drawn between a menstruating female and a werewolf are endless.  I could just stop at the word bitch, which I frequently feel like on my period, and oddly enough means female dog; but lets dig a bit deeper and evaluate the facts: a werewolf is a being who once a month, because of the cycle of the moon, uncontrollably transforms into a beast not fit for society.  These beasts are looked upon as dangerous predators, when unfortunately were probably helpless victims, thrown into a cursed life, no choice in looking back. For the duration of their lives, they are controlled by the cycle of the moon, powerless to stop these transformations. Sound familiar?!

Women, like werewolves, had no say in the curse that is their monthly cycle. Once a month, caused completely by forces outside of their control, women become something else. they become a much more temperamental, emotional, and sometimes volatile version of themselves.

I for one know that during my period, I don’t like the person that I become. I become a complete beast. I’m hungry all the time, cant seem to get enough sleep, and don’t even think of crossing me. A few days out the month, for my good and the good of those around me, I hide away in my room with a heating pad, plenty of Midol and pickle chips, and sweet tea. When I feel the edge of the sting of reckless emotions and physical pain start to wear off, I’ll text my poor boyfriend and let him know its safe to come around again.

Calming the beast one chip at a time.

As the full moon passes, and the shedding of the uterus lining comes to a close, we begin to regain the being in its true form, whom we have come to love, and miss so much. We cling on the the things that we love about this being, lest we be driven away by their scary alter egos.

Just to clarify, in a literal sense I do not believe that females are werewolves. And as much as I’d love for mythical creatures to be real, sadly I have not had an experience yet in my life to prove that to be true. But where ever and when ever the myth of the werewolf came to be, it is my belief that it was probably inspired by a menstruating female. And that seems pretty cool to me.

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