Let’s be honest: being a woman is…a lot. From the moment our bodies flip the switch at the first period, we’re basically strapped into a lifelong roller coaster that we never really asked to ride. And unlike an amusement park ride, there’s no safety bar that locks you in or a cheery teenager explaining the rules. It’s just: “Here you go! You’ll figure it out.”
Think of your body like a computer.
A PC, to be exact. Every month, there’s an update, sometimes a big one, sometimes a small one. Some months it’s just a “security patch” (light cramps, a little bloating), and other months it feels like the entire operating system crashed (hi there, period migraines and cramps that could take down a rhino). Pregnancy? That’s like installing a massive new program on an already overworked machine. Childbirth? That’s more like the whole motherboard gets rewired. Menopause? That’s when the manufacturer quietly tells you, “Oh, by the way, your software is going to start glitching about ten years earlier than you expect. Good luck.”
Meanwhile, men are like iPhones.
You buy it, and it just works, with the same simple interface, for years. Every once in a while, you plug it in, maybe delete a few photos. Otherwise, smooth sailing. No monthly updates, no unexpected shutdowns, no “sorry, you’ll be overheating for the next five days.”
The world itself doesn’t really help either. Everything around us is designed for people on a daily rhythm. Wake up, eat, work, sleep, repeat. But women? Our bodies run on monthly cycles. Hormones rise and fall, moods shift, energy changes, and yet we’re expected to show up in the world like our internal software isn’t constantly rebooting. So yes, when you feel like one week you could conquer the PTA, run a half marathon, and bake cookies for the whole neighborhood, and the next week you’re weeping at a toilet paper commercial, it’s not you being “emotional.” It’s biology.
As if our biology weren’t enough, most of us also carry the invisible weight of everything else.
We’re the schedule keepers. The grocery list makers. The ones who remember that cousin’s birthday, buy the teacher’s gift card, and know that tomorrow is Pajama Day at school. It’s like running complicated software on a device with seventeen tabs open —three of which are frozen —and spotty Wi-Fi. Our nervous systems are on constant high alert. Go, go, go. Think, plan, remember, manage. It’s no wonder that sometimes our body tries to wave a little red flag – headaches, back pain, pelvic pain, exhaustion.
Here’s the kicker: even though we know certain milestones are coming —like periods, pregnancy, childbirth, and menopause —we’re often blindsided by how it actually feels.
We know periods happen, but no one really explains how painful or disruptive they can be. We know childbirth happens, but most of us have never even heard the term “pelvic floor” before it’s already been stretched, torn, or traumatized. We know menopause exists, but most women don’t learn that symptoms can start up to a decade before their period actually stops. It’s like being told you’re going on a road trip, but nobody mentions that half the highways are closed, the GPS doesn’t work, and the car might spontaneously start smoking halfway through.
Part of the problem is that what we “know” about our bodies often comes from textbooks or glossy pamphlets that reduce complex experiences to a neat little diagram. Those books minimize, sanitize, and sometimes outright ignore what it’s like to live in a female body. Add to that the glaring lack of research about women’s health. Historically, most medical studies have been done on men, because apparently, it’s “too complicated” to factor in our monthly cycles. So our lived experience? Often dismissed as anecdotal. Which leaves us with this huge gap: what we think we know versus what actually happens.
The worst thing we do as women is keep it all quiet.
We suffer in silence, partly because we’re too busy, partly because we’ve been conditioned to think “this is just the way it is.” But silence keeps us unprepared, and unprepared means we’re always taken by surprise.
So here’s my radical suggestion: let’s talk. Really talk. If you have a daughter, teach her that periods are more than just pads and tampons. Tell her about cramps, moods, and the real stuff that happens so she knows what’s normal and when to ask for help.
If you have a friend, tell her about the pelvic floor. It’s not just about peeing after sneezing; it’s about strength, recovery, intimacy, and long-term health. If you have a mother or grandmother, talk about menopause. Encourage her to see a pelvic floor physical therapist. Don’t let her assume leaking and discomfort are just “part of aging.”
And yes, that means saying the words out loud: Vagina. Pelvic floor. Clitoris. Prolapse. Vulva. The more we normalize these words, the less taboo they become.
Being a woman is complicated, no doubt. We’re running advanced software in a world designed for basic operating systems. But the more we share, the less alone we feel, and the more prepared the next generation will be.
