Someone used the search “PMS makes me a crazy bitch” and found my blog.
Oh, sister. I share your pain. This past week has been as bad as any since I started, which is 31 years ago next month. Did you read that? 31 fucking years ago!!!!!!
The inner workings of my ovaries and uterus have caused great grief since I was 12. I’m not just talking about personal grief. Oh no. That would be too easy. It is grief that has blanketed all who are in my life with confusion and fear. I have even had co-workers and bosses mark on their calendars when the insanity and stupidity of my pms would be arriving.
“Shit! What’s the date? Oh, christ. She’s messy!” Yes folks, I even taught them my shorthand for pms. It’s messy. I’m messy. Emotionally and physically. Don’t look at me!!! Waaaahhhh…
It’s been so bad that I have had people in my life walk up to me a week before my period starts and hand me a new box of Pamparin, with the words “I know you don’t know when your cycle starts, Leanne, but I do. Your gonna need this in 2 days. Oh and go buy yourself some pads.”
Shit. you. not.
(As a quick aside, guys? You know the whole Brazilian wax thinga-ma-boober going on down there? Not for esthetic purposes. It’s because no matter how careful you are as a woman wearing a sanitary necessity, you will inevitably get a couple of pubes ripped out by sticky tape. And that fucking hurts.)(I can hear several million women on the cotton pony now, yelping “Sonofabitch! ImagettinaBraziliantomorrow!)
This time around has been incredibly horrendous. I feel like I’ve been attacked by a Period Ninja. Kidney punch – KEEYAH!!!! Tailbone kick – HYAAH!!!! Speed bag boobs –HUMBANAHUMBANAHUMABANA!!!!!
Now, last spring I got sick. of. it. And like a good little girl, I trotted myself of to the health food store and got on some stuff recommended to me by my dear friend Karen of www.karensomethingorother.com. I believe ‘effortless periods’ was one of the phrases on the bottle. Sounded good, as I am really lazy. I took those and some other stuff and the universe and god smiled on my crippled hormonal bitch self and all was good. Until a month ago. When I ran out. And the stupid sales girl in the stupid health store said stupidly “Oh this is just as good. It actually will help you detox ‘bad’ hormones.” Bad hormones? Huh. They really educate you fucking people don’t they?
Anyhoo, I took the stuff. For 3 weeks. And after last week and 3 ninja cramp days, today I got pissed off.
Like a crack whore in withdrawal, I went back to that store, looking for “the good stuff”. There was me, pale, shaking, sweating, with a migraine flirting at my temples and my gunt bloated up 2 sizes, looking for relief. As I read the bottles, a lady sidled up next to me. We silently read the bottles and then I saw what the missing ingredient was. “Green tea! Look this one has green tea extract! This one doesn’t. That’s why this shit doesn’t fucking work! Just like everything else in my life, get me?”
She didn’t even smile sympathetically. She just sort of nodded and moved away. Maybe I was loud. Probably. I certainly got through the checkout quickly.
Then I went shopping. Which I should NEVER do when I’m messy. I buy the most ridiculous things right before my period and a few days later when the fog has lifted, I find myself wondering why I bought red skin-tight jeans with red tassels running down the side. Yet today, I found the exact perfect thing.
Yes. Today, yes.
Small issue. My 7-year-old is reading phonetically. He stared at this for a long time, sounding out the cuss word. Later on he said, “I feel like she’s watching me. No matter where I move, her eyes follow me.”
They do, son. They do.