PMS

I hate when I’m being a fucking bitch and a guy is like, “aRe YoU oN YoUr PeRiOd?”

Um, no, the attitude comes BEFORE my period starts. Try to keep up, Kyle. 

Men will never understand PMS so long as they live. They never have and never will have to suffer through a week or more EVERY MONTH of having ZERO control over their emotional stability and that is just not FAIR. 

I am frighteningly UNHINGED when I am PMS-ing. Sensitive to the point that if a stranger is even just too nice to me, I will cry knowing that nice people exist in this world and that I don’t deserve their niceties. And as someone who is already quick to anger, OooOOooo boy. Do not say something even remotely derogatory or critical or I will belittle your entire existence to get back at you. 

But it’s not who I really am! And that is the most annoying part about it! I surprise even myself when I lose my shit like that! And I know it’s not really who I am because as soon as I am on the other side of the hormonal roller coaster that is my PMS week, I am back to being a confident, bad bitch who doesn’t give a shit what anyone says to me.

ALL women need to be alone in a cave in the mountains for the week leading up to their periods. We do not deserve to be around people, especially not those we love the most. Because they will be the targets of most of our hate and vitriol. 

So we suffer through three to seven days of putting all of our friendships and romantic relationships in jeopardy only to then have to BLEED for five to seven more days. Whomstever created women I would just like to have a word.  

Last week this man asked me to order food off of our regular menu even though his party had a set menu of pre-planned dishes. “I can’t digest stuff like this,” he said, pointing to some meat skewers on the table, and then proceeded to order a deep fried dish instead.

“Oh, you can’t digest meat but you can digest fried food?” I said with a sarcastic smirk on my face, my blood boiling at having to do the BARE MINIMUM for this man which actually only benefitted me because it made the check more expensive. 

“It’s because I have no saliva,” he replied. “So meat is hard for me to eat.”

I stood there in all of my regret and shame wanting to die because I just made this poor man with an actual medical condition feel guilty for no reason at all. And then I went home and cried for three days straight thinking about this interaction. THREE DAYS. THIS IS WHAT PMS DOES TO US. 

Every single month when I’m going through this bipolar, chaotic, depressive state of being I figure this is just who I am now and that I have to accept it. And then I finally make out to the other side and the heavens open up and angels start singing and life feels beautiful again. Lather, rinse, repeat. 

Being a woman is hard.

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