If you walk past my room right now, you will think I am practicing for a wrestling match. I am currently rolled up on the floor, holding a hot water bottle like my life depends on it. Yes, Aunty Periodic is back.
Honestly, being a girl in Nigeria is already an extreme sport. Combine navigating Lagos traffic with these wicked, twisting cramps, and it feels like a punishment. My lower back feels like a danfo bus drove over it, and my mood is changing faster than the exchange rate.
The worst part? The cost of sanitary pads right now is a complete sub-plot in a horror movie. Buying a single pack feels like making a down payment on a plot of land. Why must we pay so much just because our bodies are doing what nature intended?
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