Dear Heating Pad,
What can I say? The moment I saw you, sitting there at CVS, I knew. I knew you'd be the one to take my pain away; the one who would hold me when the agony got to be too much; and the one who would see me at my worst, yet still be there, plugged in, unfaltering, ready to comfort.
Our relationship started when I was just a young girl — too young by anyone's standards — and you've protected, comforted, and held me in my hardest times. You've always got my back (or side, or stomach, or other side), and not enough credit is given to the true friends like you. Though we only see each other once a month, I am my worst self every time: irritated, tired, and haggard. My patience is at an all-time low; I'm bloated even though I've had nothing which would cause such; and if we are being honest, which we always are, I'm gassy as hell. Yet, your gentle warmth embraces my midsection with the care of a nurturing mother.
Electronic though you may be, you're the loyalest sidekick a girl can have during her period. Sure, there are the pain meds, meditation, yoga flows, and teas all claiming to have some sort of healing property, but nothing holds a candle to the warmth you provide. After those long days where every minute drags onto the next, you keep me going. I know I'll have you to snuggle with when I get home, and the day's stress will fall to the wayside. You've changed my life. As an independent woman, I like to take care of myself and not lean on anyone or thing for support. Yet, for those wretched three to five days out of every month, I bow to you (although, it's probably just me doubled over in pain).
So, I want to honour the strength, patience, and faith in humanity you, heating pad, restore in me when I rue Eve and question why an omnibenevolent God would even allow this to happen. Love comes and goes in this world, but you and me — we are forever. I've found my soulmate, my partner in crime (and a bloody crime it is), and my knight in insulated flannel.
A Girl No Longer in Pain