I made the comment to my boyfriend this morning, in the midst of major hot flashes, that it is most unfair that women get all the ‘fun’. Once a month we get to bleed damn near to death. We get to go through PMS, something medical science just cannot seem to truly figure out so it throws medications at us to sedate and pacify us through those wretched days and reduce the homicide rate. Then of course there is labor and delivery, a pain even medical science will say that few if any men could handle. To top it off, we then get to go through roughly 10 years of hot flashes, night sweats, mood swings, memory loss and borderline mental insanity that often drives the men in our lives into the arms of a younger woman: Menopause. Really, the deck is stacked against us enough already in that men, being visual creatures, get all hot and bothered by the super models living among us, so we toss in the monthly, and then later decade-long Monster Syndrome and there is no way we can compete and measure up for their desire and attention.
Most women who go through PMS have stages during those days. Once a month we go through at least one day of grumpies where little stuff annoys the crap out of us. Nothing fits right, and it is the single worst time to go clothes shopping because even if we could manage to look stunning, sexy and luscious in an outfit, we’d feel and think we looked like an old, frumpy hag.
Many also experience the anger day, the one the ex referred to as “kill or be killed” day. Anyone who every saw the episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, “Bad Moon Rising” (I’ll include the link to the full episode at the end of this blog) totally relates to Deborah (if you are female) or Raymond (if you are male). I swear, it comes out of no where, when PMS is in full on mode. It’s not even every month but wow when it does hit, it makes up for lost time! It feels like someone cracks a bottle of super bitch over my head and I can FEEL it move through me like demon taking over. What follows is usually verbal destruction as anger and wrath pour out of my mouth. It’s no doubt where the writers and director got their inspiration for The Exorcist. Even I cannot believe what is coming out of my mouth when it hits, and it is like an out of body experience as I hear it and all the while in my head I’m screaming “shut the f*ck up woman are you crazy?????” and yet I cannot stop the flow once it starts until I am completely emptied and drained of it all. There is no way to prepare anyone for it, let alone myself. It just happens. At times it is just a blind rage and I don’t even remember what I said when the explosion happens. I will retreat when I feel it coming, and try to stay far away from anyone and everyone so as to minimize and emotional debris that might be left in my wake. I am afraid of me when I’m like that and certainly wouldn’t wish this horrid sadistic creature on even my worst enemy.
Today is blues day. Most women get this one too. It is one of those days where the dumbest, littlest things will just make you cry. Depressed, bummed, down…hard to explain it but rather than getting angry, everything makes me cry. It will last 8-10 hours then vanish and peace and tranquility will settle in and the Chief Fun Fairy will start thinking happy thoughts again. Until then, Katie bar the door and pass the tissues.