Hello all. Let me just start with a spoiler warning: If you are a male reader with a squeamish, squicky, or wimpy disposition, one who runs like a whipped puppy when you hear anything even slightly relating to… (shudder)… “girl stuff” then please stop reading now and click back over to Hugh Hefner’s diary or the sex tapes of Paris Hilton or whatever filthy thing you were previously viewing. All others, please keep reading.
Now, based on the previous paragraph, one might make the immediate assumption that this entry is destined to be another wild rant like the one immediately preceding it. Nothing could be further from the truth. This entry may have qualities of ranting, a slight tinge of rant-ishness, but basically it’s meant to be an observation.
Valentine’s Day. A day for love, for romance, for cuddling, and if you’re lucky, a little hanky panky. Right? In other words, a really bad day to have PMS. After your wedding day, your birthday, and Albanian Independence Day, Valentine’s Day strikes me as the worst day possible for the old P-Train to be pulling into your station. A friend of mine recently shared the story of her Valentine’s Day experience. Unfortunately, her regular visit from Aunt Flo was just around the corner, and her day was not going well. We were chatting on Facebook and I asked her what she was so aggravated about; She replied with “The air, the sun, people’s voices, you name it!!”
Well, since it was a holiday, and since my friend is married to a really decent guy, she got a present. He gave her a pair of diamond earrings. That’s right, reader- she got ROCKS for Valentine’s Day. Tiny little diamonds, which she immediately didn’t like. Wanna know why? She said they were too little for her ears. They “got lost on her big ol’ fat earlobes.”
She expressed her dislike to her dear hubby, and immediately felt guilty for being so cranky. I have to explain here, she has a finely tuned, well-developed conscience, and she really, really felt sorry. On the other hand, she is also very particular about what she likes and doesn’t like, and in fact she does have slightly fluffy earlobes.
Anyway, she apologized profusely, and he forgave her of course, probably before she even asked. She did mention he threw in a little snark, but for the most part, he let it go and didn’t make mention of her hormonal state. Which was probably a good thing, because as we all know, the quickest way to really aggravate a woman suffering from PMS is to point out that the reason for her less-than-pleasant attitude is that she is, in fact, experiencing PMS. Yeah. Definitely not a brilliant strategy, in case you’re considering it.
Later, RMB (the person I’m still legally married and somewhat emotionally attached to, but for totally unexplainable reasons, am not living with) and I were talking about PMS and how different women experience it, and how it sometimes seems like women can get away with murder, literally. It reminded me of an episode of Designing Women where Charlene was talking about a woman who went berserk in an elevator and stabbed a guy with her nail file because he wouldn’t push ‘6.’ (I totally love Designing Women. Next to M*A*S*H, it’s my favorite show ever.) There have actually been several cases in courts where PMS was brought forward as a defense. The doctor who is credited with the discovery of PMS as a more physical than psychological condition eventually testified in many trials.
I guess the point I’m trying to make here is that PMS is pretty rough. For me personally, I have a day or two where all I want to do is lie on the bed and stare at the wall and think about how I. Hate. Everything. And not just everything, but everyone. And I don’t want to do anything, and I don’t care about anything. And I either want to beat someone to death or throw myself on the floor and cry and scream for no apparent reason whatsoever.
And when Aunt Flo and T.O.M make their appearance, I’m perfectly fine and I’m all back to normal, and I can smile and talk to people and act like a human being again. Aren’t hormones fun!? Suggestion for comments: tell the world your worst PMS problems and how you deal.
Until next time,