I didn’t actually ever think I suffered tension around menstruation. Except the tension I feel about that actual word. It’s just ugly. Almost as bad a perimenopausal . Gag.
Anyhoooo, not the point of this. I just want to talk about my ignorance of my own moods and thank all the crazy, nasty PMT bitches in the world that make my own PMT look sweet. When I have tried to point out to my favourite guy that I do, in fact, have PMT he just smiles and tells me he can’t really tell. I don’t think he’s lying, I’m just thinking. Well. Crazy-bitches above.
I just know, usually in hindsight, that I have had PMT because I have gotten unnecessarily enraged by a trip to Target with only 2 of my four children, and at some point in the week previous to my period have called my children the worst swear words known to me (not to their faces, but in my mind or to my closest friend whom I can say anything to. And to my favourite guy to try to prove I have PMT. He doesn’t bite).
Here’s the thing about PMT. The ONLY person who is allowed to talk about it is the woman who is (in denial) of experiencing it. At the time she is allowed to mention she may have PMT after she has smashed an ice-cream container into a million pieces after dropping the chook food on her thongs on the way to the chook pen. Whilst muttering “you stupid fucking cunt” under her breath loudly (oxymoron, but she thinks it’s not a big deal until she checks no-one heard). The dogs look a little shocked but are not sure they know what the words mean, just the tone.
If you are another women, you can have a laugh with you friend after she tells you about it. If you are a man NEVER. EVER, EVER use PMT or any reference to anything about periods, monthly moods or hormones or it is likely you will get your oesophagus ripped out. And deservedly so. Later (like the week after) when or IF she mentions it, you can have a little laugh together about it but only about what she says. Your own jokes or references have no place in here. At all.
That’s all. I’m pretty sure I have PMT this week as something may or may not have happened with an ice-cream container yesterday and with a trip to Target. I have also cried at a couple of things on Facebook which are not really worth crying about, but feel serious. I also feel incredibly fat and can’t stop eating dark chocolate and even though I said not to when my favourite guy brought me a hot chocolate sauce waffle cone from Maccas the other night I nailed the entire thing whilst complaining about being fat and ugly and loving it. Please don’t talk about it to me unless I mention it first.
And thanks again crazy-bitches. I guess you did the ice-cream container thing when other people were around?