TMI PMS

Wednesday, November 05, 2014


A few years ago, my brother told me that he and my dad shared an understanding about my crazy mood swings. Apparently, after a night out for dinner when we came back home, I opened the car door, slammed it shut, then stomped my little feet to the apartment's elevator without a word of warning. My dad asked my brother, "What's wrong with her?" to which he answered, "Just one of her mood swings..." I think my dad nodded or shrugged or something like that. 

The point of that little story is not that I am crazy, but that PMS happens. Like how it's happening right now, so I just thought I'd share some of the insanity that I have to deal with every month. EVERY MONTH.  

My body temperature feels like it's ten degrees off. I get these hot flashes--almost like I'm going through menopause, and then I think to myself, "Am I going crazy?" For some reason, this almost always happens during a lecture at school. So I then proceed to stare at my professor with a crazed look of desperate need to GET OUT OF THIS BURNING ROOM. It has yet to generate any genuine outreaches of concern. 

My skin and hair kind of feel like bacon grease. I know, it's gross. Some days, I can literally feel the make-up sliding off my face. I almost feel like I need to take several showers throughout the day. This may also be because I feel unusually hot (see above). I hate touching my hair, which is a problem, because I have a habit of running my fingers through it. I especially hate it when other people touch my hair. I hate it when other people touch me. Period.  

Today, I thought I was being good in the school cafeteria when I picked up some fruit for lunch. Then I started to doubt if fruit was what I really wanted. I thought I needed something salty, and maybe something sweet, too. Somehow, potato chips and chocolate chip cookies made it to the register. 

I feel bloated and nothing ever looks good. One time, I was sitting in class and could feel the blood in my calves struggling to circulate in my skinny jeans. When I get home and take my pants off, their seams leave an imprint on my skin. What. Is. Going. On. Was it because of the boots I was wearing that day? Am I gaining weight from all the chips I've been eating? I need to start working out. I can't remember the last time I did a sit-up. 

I like to think I'm a very patient person, but around this time of the month, I pretty much want to strangle every single person I meet. My family, my friends, strangers on the street, no one's an exception. Just don't take it personally. And remember that there is such a thing as a stupid question.


There are no words for how I feel. It's just a lot of groaning and sighing and moaning. And those are just some things that happen on a monthly basis.  

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