I imagine periods to be a messed up version of A Christmas Carol. It starts off with a protagonist thinking, “Man. I want a baby.”
That night, the first ghost comes to call and is all, “We are the ghosts of PMS. Think you can handle a baby? Watch as I give you mood swings and mess with your hormone levels so that everyone around you becomes as annoying as a two-year-old.”
A second ghost comes by and says, “Looking forward to your feet growing, gaining weight, and nine months of bloating? Here’s a quick sample.”
A third ghost stops by and is all, “Think you can handle the pain of childbirth? Think again. Have some cramps. They build character. PS: morning sickness is a little like this. Go throw something up.”
Having gone through hell and back, the protagonist thinks to herself, “You know? Maybe a baby wouldn’t be the best idea right now.” She resumes her month with renewed faith.
Apparently, the protagonist never learns.