It’s no secret I am obsessed with my period. Every other tweet I do is about PMS. In fact, I don’t even need a period app, my Twitter timeline basically performs that function. So since I can’t shut up about it, I might as well blog about it.
PMS
Let’s just put it this way, women have been acquitted from crimes because of PMS. I am extremely short-tempered, I hate everyone, I don’t want to do any work, “I’m sorry, I can’t schedule a meeting this week because I’m PMS-ing”, there’s nothing good on TV, “oh my god, why are you calling me, can’t you just text me!”. Everyone gets it, from my clients to my girlfriends. Men would inevitably have to bear the brunt of women’s PMS but god help you if you ever dare suggest that I’m hormonal. “Is it that time of the month?” is a question I sincerely believe can be responded with a heartfelt bludgeoning. In under 3 seconds, I literally become a raging PMS-Zilla, “Whether it’s my time of the month is NOT the point! I hate you! Why won’t you die and leave me alone! Where are you going, don’t go, I need you to rub my feet”.
I Want All The Food
I’m actually pretty good when it comes to snacking, I generally don’t eat a lot of fast or sweet food but with the precision of a Swiss timekeeper, exactly 7 days before the deluge, all I want are carbs. And ice-cream. And chocolate. If there was a mashed potato flavored ice-cream, I’d want it. I want to eat a whole bag of potato chips, while laying in bed, wiping my tears away with my ice-cream spoon. Then there’s the inevitable remorse that happens after and the only thing that will make me feel better are cookies.
The Bloat
The Bloat is some kind of parasite that invades my body, retains water and emotions, renders all my clothes unwearable and seems to enjoy inhabiting my stomach and the fleshy part of my arms just near my underarms (affectionately termed “BUPS – Bits Under The Pits). Where is all this goddamn weight coming from? Does it hide in my shoes for 3 weeks out of a month? How much contouring do I need to do on my face to make myself look like I don’t have 5 chins? And even though this happens every month, I still don’t realise it’s PMS till I catch myself sobbing because I can’t fit into a dress (this may or may not have happened 2 weeks ago).
This Is Zit!
Hey look, I’m 13 again, thanks zit! My body never fails to show me who’s boss by delivering a pimple that’s got roots and a mortgage on my face. It sets up camp and laughs at me as I try everything from toothpaste to a blowtorch.
The Deluge
Then there’s the 7 day wait for the flood to hit. It can come any time! When you least expect it! Usually when you’re wearing white! Always when you never have a tampon!
———-
Put all these things together and maybe you can understand why many women, like myself, are raging irrational lunatics once a month. There’s no way to make it out alive, so my recommendation to men is: bring her food and shut the hell up.
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_weSk0BonM]