Yep, that's right. I have PMS right about now. Don't worry men, I'm not going to talk about getting my monthly "Friend" as Tina Fey would put it, just PMS. It's something your sister/mother/girlfriend/wife deals with, so you're gonna have to live with it too. Might as well read about it from a woman's perspective. That's right, I'm a WOMAN.
This is what I look like when I get hit with a bout of PMS.
In reality, I don't show much emotion on the outside when the mood swing hits. I kind of stare in the distance and don't talk. Don't be fooled; I might look calm, but there is a storm of anger brewing inside and it's only a matter of time before I explode.
I'll give you an example. Yesterday I woke up, plopped on the couch and sat in front of my laptop. A little later my mom apologetically asked if I could help her in the garden for 30 minutes. All of the sudden I went from content, to pissed. Sorry, but sometimes that's the only word to describe my feelings.
Here's a narrative of what was going on inside my head.
I slowly followed my mom outside and stared at the garden filled with weeds, the object of my hatred. I was supposed to weed this? I HATE WEEDING. At first the weeds behaved, but eventually they weren't pulling. When I pulled, the tops would tear off leaving the roots behind. WHY WOULDN'T THEY DO WHAT I WANTED?! With the sun's rays beatingbeating down on me, the sweat started to drip. I moved to a different spot in the shade. The weeds wouldn't pull. Uh oh, it was coming: The Crazy.
"I HATE WEEDS. THEY GROW EVERYWHERE. NO ONE WANTS THEM. WHY DON'T PLANTS THAT WE LIKE GROW EASILY? THIS IS DUMB."
My poor mother. She just sat there and listened while I vomited out my genius revelations. Then she said, "Yeah, too bad the deers like to eat the good stuff too."
Nice try, but I didn't want to hear humor. Then the spiritual being that my mother is, tried this one on me. "Well, I think it has partly to do with the Fall of Adam. You know, "In the sweat of your face shalt thou eat bread" kind of thing. We have to work for what we want."
HOW DARE SHE PULL RELIGION INTO THIS!!! I'M MAD, I DON'T WANT ACTUAL ANSWERS TO MY QUESTIONS.
This actually makes me sound quite crazy...
At this point, I realized that I was PMS-ing because weeds don't normally make me psycho. (My thoughts aren't usually in all caps either). That made me more mad, because I was being controlled by a stupid woman problem. I almost started crying right there in the garden. Then I asked my mom if I could be done. I was really close to a mental breakdown, and one more minute surrounded by weeds would have set me off. Again.
In my defense, PMS usually doesn't make me mental like that. Thank goodness.
I had to write a personal narrative for my writing class last semester, and it was very similar to this one. I was mad at my mom again, but this time it was because she asked me to vacuum. I made it have deeper meaning, which I still stand behind, but I'm pretty sure it was mostly PMS.
So since I know my mom reads my blogs, I'd like to formally apologize to her for my outbursts and bad attitude. I know I can't totally blame PMS, but it IS a factor. The other half must be because I'm a brat. I'll work on it.