Disclaimer: This will be TMI. For everyone, but guys especially. There's this ad for a new TV show this fall, and she's all like, "You girls think that ignoring your boyfriend when you're angry at him is a punishment...but it's not...it's a reward. If you really want to punish him, just. keep. talking. About everything...how fat you feel, your period...." So ya. Hilarious side note: (wow!! disclaimer and a side note - and brackets??? I haven't even started the post yet...I'm on a roll) Q keeps walking around the house going, "Talk about your period..." I'm gonna have lots of 'splainin' to do...
I have been PMS-ing for 9 days. Yup. You read that correctly. 9 freaking days. And I was 5 days late.
Usually, I'm Ms. Regular (no, I'm not even going to start with BM's, don't worry...) Aunt Flo visits every 28 days, except for March when she arrives a week early and October when she arrives a week late. Kinda like the whole daylight savings thing, only with my period. I could plan events by the absolute regularity of my period. I know that's a little weird to say, I was going to say you could set your clock to my period, but it's not that regular or fabulous. We'll keep Big Ben for that, I think.
Because I'm so regular, I'm also always the Alpha Female. Yes, I said Alpha Female. And yes, I capitalized it. It's something I'm really very proud of, how totally *Woman* I am. Like, women I work with (or live with) will casually say, "Geez, I'm like a week early (or late)...what's up with that??" And I'll be all, "uh....ya, that's totally weird. I have no idea why that might be..." when really I totally know that it's because of me and my super hero strength hormones.
One week before, my hormones decide to surge bitchiness. I don't know what it is or why it wants me to be so mean, but I have absolutely no control over it. I can hear myself saying things and think, "oh.....that's so mean...." but I cannot stop the words from coming. I can't stop my middle finger from popping up when the car in front of me decides to stop at a green light because they're *lost* and don't know if they should go straight, or left, or right. You know what buddy? I get lost, like all the time, and I pull into a parking lot or something. Why should everyone suffer because I'm directionally challenged? Green means go dude. I can't stop telling the kids off in the kiddie pool for splashing. I know, right? Total party pooper. It's a kiddie pool, for crying out loud.
I purposely avoid conversations with my ex that may lead to conflict during this time, because I have been known to be very, very mean and I am not exaggerating at all when I say I have made him cry at least once while I was PMS-ing.
I crave chocolate and ice cream and potato chips (mmmmm, ketchup and salt and vinegar) and chocolate and fudge and sugar and sugar and sugar. And have no self control over any of them. It's like they call my name and I just cannot resist. I have a mug that says, "Forget Men. I fall for Chocolate". It was a gift from a girlfriend who knows me very, very well. Try losing 36 pounds when all you can think of is a Chocolate Fudge Brownie with Vanilla Bean Ice Cream and Caramel Syrup. Yes. I broke down. Last night. And it was sooooooo worth it.....
I have troubles sleeping for at least 2-3 days before. This is just cruel times 10 because I'm already grumpy, and now you're going to take sleep away from me as well??? Do you want me to get arrested? Have you no shame? Obviously not, because on top of it all is a sore back and really, super sore boobies. I should call in sick for two weeks out of each month - one for PMS-ing and the other for MS-ing. That'll go over well, right? I'm sure. "Ya hi. Uh...me again. Yup. Yup, I'm calling in...uh, woman...this week...again..."
My family and friends notice it. They're all like, "Why are you being so mea....oh. Really? Didn't we just do this last month?" And I'm all like, "Um, ya. You think I'm enjoying this?" To be clear...I'm not. At all. One colleague (male) actually had my cycle pegged by the moon. Interestingly enough, my PMS begins around the time of the full moon, when the gravitational pull of the earth....oh, whatever.
This time, because I'm 5 days late, I have been uber-bitch for 9 days. It is exhausting being mean. It really, truly is. I'm the happy, bubbly, fun, nice one. It's way better being that way. I don't want to be the mean one. Mean is ugly. I want to be the pretty one.
Almost nothing is so beautiful, serene, calming, and wonderful as when my body finally decides it is ready to shed the lining of my uterine wall. It is like my body immediately sighs a huge sigh of relief and suddenly I am ME again.
Until the cramps start.
And the headaches.
And then I want to lie in bed for another 4-7 days.
It really makes me mad, like irate-mad, that men complain about getting their prostate checked every year. Like seriously, that is the worst thing you got? Why don't I get a vacuum and suck the lining of your stomach out for 4 to 7 days? Let's see how much you like getting your prostate checked after that little experiment.