I so wish I was kidding.
I think I’ve written about this before, and now…I’m writing about it again. I just have to do it. I’m so pissed. At myself. Wait, fuck that. I’m pissed at my hormones. And my ovaries. And I’m pissed at my uterus! I swear to Goddess, every 28 days, like clockwork…I could kill someone. Ya, you heard me. I could literally stab a person. The little twit at Starbucks today who almost ran me over racing to her parking spot. I literally got in a fight with her. I was behind her in line, and I said, “You do know, life is too short to be such a fucking bitch.” And the West Elm supervisor who just happened to take my call. I verbally abused her because she wouldn’t take my shitty-ass couches back, fully knowing they’re a final sale. Or how about the guy I was dating last week. Oh, ya. We broke up on Saturday. He totally watched my head spin around and green shit come spewing out of my mouth. I think he’s still crying. I scared the fucking shit out of the poor man. All because of my fucking menstrual cycle.
But it’s not like I didn’t warn him.
Oh, by the way, Mr. Definitely Different, I have the WORST effin’ PMS EVER.
Yup. I told him. But did he listen? Nope. I should come with a disclaimer. *CAUTION: This woman will be a fucking cunt once a month but only for the three days prior to bleeding*. Ya. I should have that on a tag attached to my ass. Well, I should. But I’m honest, and upfront. I even went as far as to tell him we shouldn’t see each other the three days before my period! I explained my “condition”which really is real. PMDD is a REAL THING! You guys need to Google it up, and HEAR my words. It causes some women to go bat shit fucking cray. And honestly, I am one of those women. Mark will tell ya, we used to plan our vacations around my PMS. We even planned our wedding around it…I wish I was lying. But alas, I am not. PMDD officially sucks.
But guys don’t want to listen to women, or try to understand our hormonal surges. I guess why should they? I mean, it’s not their fucking problem. Or is it? If they care about me, and I am a total twat 3 days a month…I guess they should TRY and be sympathetic to what I’m dealing with, right? Or at a least stop flippin’ pushing my buttons, or starting up with me…when they know I’m PMSing? Jesus fucking Christ on a popsicle stick! Why in the name of Aunt Flow would any decent man want to rile me up the day before I get my fucking period? WHY WHY WHY?? Whoa. Let me take a breather. It’s obvious that I need to take a look-see at the calendar…
I actually count. One, two…twenty-six. Twenty-seven…twenty-eight…BINGO! And I see BLOOD! And I am telling you the minute, no…the second there is a drop in sight…I am normal again. Sanity returns. My face goes back to normal. I feel like myself again. I don’t want to kick anyone’s ass, or swear at my children. I just am my good-ole-happy-go-lucky self! Yippee! And its like the last 72 hours never even happened! Hmmm. But they did. And I’ve left this path of destruction. And I might have said mean things. Or acted impulsively. Or made stupid decisions I just never would have made if I was hormonally balanced. Yeesh. And I kinda hate it. I hurt Mr. Definitely Different’s feelings. And he hates me, for sure. And he thinks I’m a crazy freak, but I’m not.
I am so not. And I know I explained to him what was going on. And I know I begged him to please stop arguing with me, it wasn’t a good time. And I know I wanted it to all just end. I did. I tried. But I couldn’t once it started… it just spiraled out of control. One, stupid thing after another… dammit. And then, it was too late. I had said the dumbest shit. And he tried to “give me space” but at that point, really? And this morning, I woke up bleeding like a stuck pig. TMI? Ha. Y’all are funny. I know some of you newbies are like, “Is she kidding! DID SHE JUST TELL US SHE GOT HER PERIOD?” Yes, dumb bunnies. I did. And this is my blog, and I can say whatever the hell I want.
I even texted him. I did. I told him I got my period. Not like it mattered. But it made me feel a little bit better. Kinda like an “I told you so”. Why can’t y’all just believe me before it’s too late? Why can’t I just lock myself in my room the 72 hours before I start to bleed? haha. Omg I am dying over here. This one was fun. Not funny. But fun. Cathartic. Thanks for letting me vent. Now, tomorrow I’m leaving for Detroit…going home. Taking a break, ok? No blog for a week or two. So, go read about someone else’s cycle.
And I’ll let you know when I take a shit, via Facebook. Ha. ;)
Tags: jennifer hurvitz, jennifer weintraub, sex after marriage, single life, the truth hurvitz, women and sex