Hello, men. I thought this would be a good time to remind you that anything you can do, I can do bleeding. That’s right, whatever it is you did today, I can probably do it while hemorrhaging from the most sensitive part of my body. And I won’t die! Remember that when you’re standing on the train in the morning surrounded by bodies—roughly half of them female bodies. They could be bleeding. Standing and bleeding. Walking and bleeding. Smiling and bleeding.

Think about it. A mortal being, walking the earth, shedding her blood continuously for a week while lookingy normal and smiling through eight hours of continuous meetings to avoid workplace discrimination. And the whole amazing process is partially controlled by the gravitational patterns of the moon. That’s right, my body is controlled by a giant space rock. A floating rock in the depths of space decides when I bleed. I think nine out of ten horror movie writers would agree that alone makes me about one mutation shy of needing to be killed with a stake.

Now, you’re probably thinking that all this bleeding must be detrimental to my work. After all, humans need their blood to make spreadsheets and eat salads and attend internal debriefings. Well, you would be wrong. Dead wrong. You know what isn’t dead though? Me after bleeding constantly for seven days.

Remember that meeting yesterday? The one where you talked over me repeatedly, so that I was forced to yell over you? It was so fun, both of us yelling like that. Weren’t you pumped? I was so pumped, but I was also pumping blood out of my uterus. That’s right, my life force was being pumped out of my body and into my pants—my fashionable, androgynous business pants. Sure, that meeting was high stakes for you, but just one sneeze and it would’ve been all over for me. Seriously, it would’ve been all over my very expensive pants.

So what if you negotiated the big deal and signed the huge contract? Did you sign your huge contract in blood? No, you didn’t because you’re not a blood machine like me. Everyone knows a contract is never more legally binding than when it’s been sealed with a bodily fluid. What fluids do you have on hand? Only clear ones? How embarrassing for you.

Oh, and it’s not just at the office that I can get things done while leaving a trail of blood in my wake. You should see me at the public swimming pool. They say men and women aren’t athletically matched, but how many men train for their intramural city swim meets in the open ocean with blood-seeking sharks? None that would have to worry about the blood-seeking part!

Men, what I’m saying is this: You may have the upper hand right now, but never forget… anything you can do, I can do bleeding. That is, just as soon as I take this aspirin and muster the strength to get up off the couch.