Let Steve Bleed
Period Simulators, Perimenopause, and the Medical Gaslighting of Neurodivergent Women
Inspired by If Men Got Periods… A humorous look at how the world would be different if we put the ‘men’ in menstruation by Robin Wilding (June 21, 2025)
Apparently, there’s a Canadian company called Some Days making serious waves in the menstrual product world. I just learned this a few weeks ago, and it’s not just for their products, but for their gutsy marketing. Maybe you’ve seen the clips, but as an American who doesn’t have periods anymore, I had not… basically, it’s men strapped to period pain simulators, squirming like fish out of water while trying to maintain eye contact and dignity, and holy shit balls, Wonder Woman, it’s cathartic as fuck.
In her unflinchingly hilarious SubStack post, Wilding, ever-subversive, admits:
“It is perverse, but it is so incredibly entertaining watching the men squirm and beg for mercy.”
Mercy, of course, being the option to press the “stop” button. Which I certainly never fucking got. There is no pause on endometriosis. No mute button for PMS. No skip button on a menstrual migraine. PMDD? Pfffftttttt. Women just… deal. And by “deal” I mean: bleed, present, parent, email, fake smile, suppress rage, and take care of everyone else’s feelings while trying not to pass out or punch a wall.
This post isn’t just about pain. It’s about power: who gets to express it, who’s believed, and who’s left bleeding in silence.
Let’s talk about the big bloody picture: Periods. Perimenopause. Neurodivergence. Patriarchy. And why Steve would absolutely tap out at a 5.
The Comedy Hits Because the Truth Hurts
Wilding imagines a world where tampons are rebranded as “Manpons,” shot from Nerf guns, and sold in 12-packs at gas stations with names like HormoneMax9000.
It’s hilarious. But also? Not that far off.
Because when men suffer, we invest in innovation.
When women suffer, we’re told to hydrate and think positively.
Wilding further notes:
“There would be a Manpon holder in the center consoles of pickup trucks, and a rack in their toolbox that sorts them by size/flow (they’d probably call it ‘torque’ or something).”
And she’s not fucking wrong. Now let’s take that rage and aim it straight at the intersection of neurodivergence and midlife hormones, the place where empathy, funding, and diagnosis go to die.
Imagine Bleeding While Your Brain Short-Circuits
Perimenopause is the biological version of software crashing mid-update. Estrogen, progesterone, dopamine, and serotonin are all fluctuating wildly, and the error messages come fast:
You can’t remember words.
You’re anxious but exhausted.
You’re overstimulated by socks. But also every little micro-crumb on the floor if you’re not wearing them. Bras, for sure. And possibly your bangs.
Now throw in undiagnosed ADHD or autism, conditions that already cause sensory sensitivity, time blindness, burnout, emotional dysregulation, executive dysfunction -and you’ve got what we call the Hormone-NeuroHell Matrix.
It’s not just hard. It’s gaslit cognitive collapse.
And yet, most doctors are still giving the same advice they gave your grandma:
“Take a walk. Cut back on wine. Try yoga.”
Meanwhile, studies show that women are diagnosed with ADHD an average of five years later than men (Nussbaum, 2012), and autistic women are frequently misdiagnosed with anxiety or personality disorders instead (Hull et al., 2020). Most of us were never even on the diagnostic radar.
This System Was Never Built for Us
Medical misogyny isn’t new (it’s just getting better PR).
Women’s pain is more likely to be dismissed or misattributed to psychological causes (Samulowitz et al., 2018). Up to 80% of women in perimenopause report symptoms that interfere with daily life, and yet, a shocking number receive little to no support (Santoro et al., 2021).
Black women, disabled women, and fat women face even steeper barriers to being believed. Neurodivergent women are often labeled “dramatic,” “unstable,” or “too much” long before anyone thinks to run a hormone panel or ask about executive function. But wow, you know what would fucking help? (Shhhhh. That’s rhetorical, Steve.) Empathy. Infrastructure. Research. Representation. But instead, we apparently need to watch Chad writhe on a simulator first before any of that happens.
Let Steve Give a TED Talk While Hemorrhaging
Let Steve explain Q2 projections while his uterus reenacts The Exorcist.
Let him lead a brainstorming session while overheating and leaking through his business casuals.
Let him misplace his notes, forget the word "presentation," rage-cry in a bathroom stall, and come back out smiling because THAT’S WHAT WE FUCKING DO, STEVE.
Then offer him a granola bar and tell him it’s probably stress.
Maybe suggest a mindfulness app.
And then, maybe … just maybe … Steve will start to understand.
Why We Made a Podcast Instead of Suffering Quietly
We created ADHD Peri Punks not because we had all the answers, but because we were sick to death of suffering in silence.
The podcast is part storytelling, part rescue mission, not just for ourselves but for all women, and anyone who loves a woman.
It’s a voice note to the woman sobbing in her parked car (been there), thinking she’s losing her mind (done that).
It’s a rebellion against corporate wellness, medical neglect, and generational shame.
But it’s also a lot of laughter and even more swearing while flipping birds to the patriarchy.
We want to be loud enough that the women coming up behind us don’t have to whisper. And we want men to listen, not to fix us, but to finally see us. We want them educated and invested. Because this isn’t a gendered issue. It’s a universal health crisis that affects everyone.
We want to turn rage into community.
Bleeding into clarity.(It’s too late for me, personally to turn bleeding into clarity, and let me tell you, unexpected post-menopausal bleeding a few months ago has taken any clarity I felt I was gaining and flushed it down the toilet with all the bloody tampons I wasn’t supposed to flush but did anyway… sorry, plumbing… ).
And… Diagnosis into liberation (that is exactly what it has been for us).
If nobody else is going to build us a better system, we’re just gonna do it ourselves, starting with a mic, a menstrual metaphor, and a staunch refusal to shut up.
Join Us or Move Aside
This is your invitation:
If you’ve ever been gaslit by a doctor, therapist, partner, teacher, boss, or your own brain, come rage with us. Seriously.
If you’ve ever bled through khakis during a staff meeting, come laugh with us. (It was white pants in seventh grade during lunch for me. 12 was such a fun age!)
If you’ve ever yelled at your kid, sobbed in a bathroom stall, then screamed “ALEXA, what’s wrong with me,” you’re actually already with us.
We’re not asking for pity. We’re flash-rioting.
Thanks, Robin Wilding , for the blood-soaked satire and a chance to continue the conversation. And to every Steve reading this: you’d never make it past a 6. Just so you know…