PMS - POST MISERABLY UGLY SYNDROME
This is a decidedly female entry today. So, for any of my male readership (and really, I am not even sure I have a male readership), let this serve as a warning -- this is extreme girl talk. If you choose to read on, you do so at your own risk and possible embarrassment!
When I turned 30, things started falling. I looked in the mirror one day, very soon after the big 3-0, and realized my butt wasn't where it used to be. It was lower ... some sort of weird gravitational pull occurred the night of my birthday. Same thing happened to "the girls!"
Gray hair started sprouting on my head too. Those pesky, unruly buggers caused me some tears the day I discovered them. My stylist, Stan, helped me work through the pain, though, by explaining that gray hairs, on my blonde head, were really just highlights. I could live with this explanation if they would only stop growing out of my head standing straight in the air, like they are standing at attention or something. They're a haughty bunch, my gray hairs are!
When I turned 35, something started happening internally. Personally, I think the internal stuff is much more disconcerting than the outward stuff. Case in point ...
I've always had to deal with PMS. My mother has always sworn (on a giant stack of Bibles) she will never, ever let on to any possible future husbands the bowels of hell that is unleashed when I hit my PMS week. Apparently, I am not fun to be around. Imagine!
According the the aforementioned parental unit, I tend to pick fights. I will snap for no apparent reason, and there is a sort of "head-spinning, green-bile-spewing" effect that occurs that changes what would, in others' words, be a relatively even-keeled, sun-shiny disposition. Nope, my mother swears she will slap a smile on her face and lie through her teeth that I am the most amazing person to be around during that week. Otherwise, she fears she will be stuck with me forever!
But here's the thing, I am now very much an amazing person to be around during PMS week. Because, at the age of 35, my body has decided to ride this particular horse backwards. Now, instead of crying at a Hallmark commercial the week before the Carny comes to town, I cry the week AFTER it comes to town.
Instead of wanting to consume the entire DARK CHOCOLATE supply within a 300-mile radius the week leading up to THE CARNIVAL, I now want nothing more than to graze that entire radius AFTER THE FACT!
I do not know why this has happened. Maybe it's because my eggs have now begun dying by the nanosecond. Or maybe something inside is being pulled downward as well by that biological gravitational pull. All I know is that I am so very confused, and I am wondering if I could earn some extra cash in some sort of bizarre medical study ... hmmmm ...
When I turned 30, things started falling. I looked in the mirror one day, very soon after the big 3-0, and realized my butt wasn't where it used to be. It was lower ... some sort of weird gravitational pull occurred the night of my birthday. Same thing happened to "the girls!"
Gray hair started sprouting on my head too. Those pesky, unruly buggers caused me some tears the day I discovered them. My stylist, Stan, helped me work through the pain, though, by explaining that gray hairs, on my blonde head, were really just highlights. I could live with this explanation if they would only stop growing out of my head standing straight in the air, like they are standing at attention or something. They're a haughty bunch, my gray hairs are!
When I turned 35, something started happening internally. Personally, I think the internal stuff is much more disconcerting than the outward stuff. Case in point ...
I've always had to deal with PMS. My mother has always sworn (on a giant stack of Bibles) she will never, ever let on to any possible future husbands the bowels of hell that is unleashed when I hit my PMS week. Apparently, I am not fun to be around. Imagine!
According the the aforementioned parental unit, I tend to pick fights. I will snap for no apparent reason, and there is a sort of "head-spinning, green-bile-spewing" effect that occurs that changes what would, in others' words, be a relatively even-keeled, sun-shiny disposition. Nope, my mother swears she will slap a smile on her face and lie through her teeth that I am the most amazing person to be around during that week. Otherwise, she fears she will be stuck with me forever!
But here's the thing, I am now very much an amazing person to be around during PMS week. Because, at the age of 35, my body has decided to ride this particular horse backwards. Now, instead of crying at a Hallmark commercial the week before the Carny comes to town, I cry the week AFTER it comes to town.
Instead of wanting to consume the entire DARK CHOCOLATE supply within a 300-mile radius the week leading up to THE CARNIVAL, I now want nothing more than to graze that entire radius AFTER THE FACT!
I do not know why this has happened. Maybe it's because my eggs have now begun dying by the nanosecond. Or maybe something inside is being pulled downward as well by that biological gravitational pull. All I know is that I am so very confused, and I am wondering if I could earn some extra cash in some sort of bizarre medical study ... hmmmm ...
Comments
Come to the Monkey tomorrow, 6ish and help me ring in the 30's!