pms666.com

Hello girls. I know you’re just getting used to the changes in your bodies, and that you may have a ton of questions about what happens hormonally during the days before you get your period. I’m not here to answer those questions. But good news! I’m going to list the questions that frequently occur to me during this delicate time of the month.

1. Why the hell am I the only one who picks up the laundry from the bathroom floor?
2. Why aren’t two truffles, an ice cream sandwich and four cups of highly sweetened Chai tea enough to satisfy my craving for sugar?
3. Why did I burst into tears when the neighbor’s kid fell down and skinned her knee?
4. Why do I feel such a strong hatred for that old man at the gym who wears skin tight spandex tank tops?
5. Why did Lindsay Lohan die her hair blonde? Doesn’t she know it looks horrible?
6. Why can’t I fucking concentrate?
7. Why does my bra suddenly feel like a 15th century torture device crafted from a combination of metal, spandex and an unknown fiber that itches when it rubs against my ribs?

I feel happy, sad, angry, guilty and fat. What? Did somebody say mood swings? Homer, take it away.

I was listening to “Hybrid Theory” my one and only Linkin Park album at the gym the other day because it’s really angry and fast-paced and helps me stay on the damned elliptical for more than 20 minutes. Then it hit me. These….men….really…GET ME. Just listen to these lyrics:

From the song Papercut:

Why does it feel like night today?
Something in here’s not right today
why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia’s all I got left
I dont know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed / but
I know just what it feels like
To have a voice in the back of my head

From the song, One Step Closer:

Everything you say to me
Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I’m about to break
I need a little room to breathe
Cause I’m one step closer to the edge

and

Shut up when I’m talking to you
Shut up!! Shut up!! Shut up!!
Shut up!! Shut up!! Shut up!!
I’m about to break!!!

From the song Crawling: (and, really, this one’s so apt!)

There’s something inside of me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self-control
I fear is never ending
Controlling, I can’t seem

To find myself again
My walls are closing in
(Without a sense of confidence,)
(I’m convinced that there’s just)
(Too much pressure to take)
I’ve felt this way before
So insecure!

Discomfort endlessly
Has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will
I stand beside my own reflection
It’s haunting
How I can’t seem
To find myself again (chorus)…

Eerie, isn’t it? Thanks, boys, for giving a voice to my angst. I’m sure you’d be gratified to know that you really connected with a 36-year-old PMS-addled woman.

omg there is certainly a lack of words to describe the extreme levels of stress that course through a woman’s body at certain times during PMS. i’m just coming down from a 2 hour panic attack, begun by a (foresight tells me) relatively minor incident with the guy i’m dating.

Body shakes, tears, stress, terror, panic, lack of control, fear, distress, anguish, unbearable suffering like the world is crashing down. it really is remarkable. note to self: caffeine may intensify this effect.

for sufferers- i really recomend a little bottle of pills from any pharmacy in the pain killing section: Maximum Strength Premsyn PMS. I feel like i should somehow attach this bottle to my wrist every week before my period. amazingly – there is a drug out there at a modest expense that alleviates not only bloating, backache and water weight gain but also tension and irritibility! TENSION AND IRRITIBILITY!? its no wonder i’ve chosen the name GimmieMeds. I need this stuff to take the edge off like an alcholoic needs their drink. If you suffer these freaking panic sessions – i urge you to pick up a bottle and just take a couple in advance, when you start to feel nervous and stressed. You might avoid a major episode!

 i’m going to go and try to ease back into my work day now. best of luck to all you sufferers out there.

 GimmieMeds

For me, PMS is ever so much more than a standard, 28-day cycle.

I have 1.5 – 2 weeks of pure PMS, where I eat everything in close proximity, am filled with depression and uncertainty, and begin to doubt any speck of achievement I’ve ever enjoyed.

Then I get my period. 

My period is a week of medieval darkness, of which I have no desire to discuss, and possess very little realistic recollection, regardless.  It’s sort of like the flashing fragments of horrific realization present in the original version of “Rosemary’s Baby”.

After a week’s time, the heavens open.  Clouds push gently to the side, and soft, fragmented light begins to filter down to my cold spot on this earth.  I am again able to choose to exercise regularly, and eat healthily.  My mornings are tranquil and newly optimistic, and a strong sense of clarity pervades my muddled mind.

Seven days later, evil creeps in.  I become easily stressed.  I am disconcerted by a cashier’s tone.  My internet connection is sluggish.  I can easily talk myself into ingesting large amounts of carbohydrates.  I have no desire to run.

Regularly, the owner of this blog calls to ask me how I’m feeling, in a voice not unlike that of Lemony Snicket. 

“How’s your day going?” she queries, innocently.

“Easily irritable?”  she probes, tsking at any allusion to a difficult day.  

I imagine her pressing her fingertips together with the smug look of someone who’s about to get a new post on their blog.

“I’m fine!” I laugh, as I bite into an apple and pull on my sneakers.

The good week went by so fast this time, I think I missed it.

1. This is not a man-hating blog. Oh men, men, men, I know you think it is. I know when you hear the term “PMS” you get a furtive look of fear in your eyes, which then become half-lidded until you subsequently skulk out of the room.

(And I really don’t blame you. PMS is unpredictable and nasty and messy and all-too-frequent. I’m not sure how I would handle it if the tables were turned. I’m not very nurturing. I think dealing with a man who had monthly mood swings followed by chronic bleeding and cramps would destroy every shred of empathy in my flint-encrusted heart.)

2. This blog is not meant to cultivate serious discourse about PMS and all the medical issues it involves. I mean, just take a look at the categories for fuck’s sake; tears, cravings, I hate my body, loathing, PMS sucks… I’m sure there are any number of pharmaceutical-sponsored “women’s health” sites that talk about the seriousness of PMS and show attractive female models scrunching up their faces in pain or looking troubled. Go there if you want medical advice or heart-warming validation. Come here to complain, laugh and justify the chocolate sundae you’ve been craving.

3. This is not a blog with a purpose. It really isn’t. This is blog is meant to be pure fun and snark and unfettered cathartic release. Sure, I have way more important things to be doing than posting on this blog. Laundry, shopping, wage-earning work. But I do so enjoy avoiding ALL of that, don’t you?

4. This blog is not intended to be polite. I fully expect that my fellow posters and I will have BAD potty mouth at least once a month. We will complain. We will rage. We will weep. We will whine. If you’re easily upset, you may want to go visit Disney.com and play with the fairies. Or, send me an e-mail and I’ll give you access to post your own snarky, hormone-filled masterpiece. Just be sure to use lots of cuss words.

5. This blog is not intended to be mean. This isn’t The Superficial – we’re not going to post pictures of Brittney Spears’ crotch and then snark about how hysterical it is that it matches her bald head. If anything, we’ll rant on about how skinny she looks after having two children and wonder if she’s getting help for the post-partum depression she’s clearly suffering from. We’re women, not monsters. If you’re looking for pure evil, there’s plenty of that elsewhere.

I just discovered PMS Buddy, which is a web site that offers free PMS reminders online. As if the red-tinged appointment reminders in my Outlook calendar weren’t enough to keep me apprised of the upcoming maelstrom. This tool actually lets users create an e-mail list of friends and family to whom you can send PMS warnings. I guess one side effect of using this tool is that people stop calling you and inviting you to parties.

Personally, I think the element of surprise is what gives PMS its power. By the way, you try using “maelstrom” in a sentence.

Disney may be widely known for its stunning princesses and cute fluffy protagonists, but the artists at the Disney complex (who I suspect are mostly men), seem to know a thing or two about PMS, or is it my imagination? Let’s recap, shall we….

Meet Ursula from the Little Mermaid. A rotund seawitch who is bent on distruction. Come on, ladies, you can’t tell me you haven’t felt Ursula-ish from time to time. My favorite Ursula quote, “I’ll see him wriggle like a worm on a HOOK.” I’m convinced that Ursula is the embodiment of what all men fear about PMS.

 How can we forget the Witch/Queen from Snow White? The 1940′s version of stereotypical female bitchiness. I’d say this vision is more an embodiment of post-menopausal bitchiness than PMS. Oh, but wait a sec…

Here we go. The Queen before her transformation into a witch. Thanks, Disney, for personifying PMS and all its powerful rage. By the way, can you put your heart in this box for me? Thank you very much.

Meet Medusa from Disney’s, “The Rescuers.” A scarier vision of female angst has never before been drawn (unless you count Ursula, above). We’ve all felt like this, haven’t we? I can just picture her screaming, “Get me some chocolate, dammit! What the hell is wrong with you? And why does my skin look so damn purple today? Oh hell, I need a drink!”

Here’s Cruella Deville once again. I featured her in my first post, but she’s worthy of another mention. I mean, she wants to skin puppies and make them into fur coats. I wonder what horrible things happened to the Disney men during childhood.

Sleeping Beauty’s Maleficent is my personal hero. Oh, not because she’s petty and insecure and wants to kill the King and Queen’s only child simply because she wasn’t invited to her birth celebration. That’s not it at all. It’s because she’s got style! Well, that and her very own raven. I wish I had a raven that perched on my shoulder once a month, frightening law-abiding citizens and announcing my malevolence to all who dare oppose me. I’m just saying…

The Queen of Hearts from Alice in Wonderland is a truly terrifying site, particularly when she’s annoyed (which is often). I’m seeing a theme here. She kind of looks like Ursula from the Little Mermaid with a bit of Medusa (from The Rescuers) mixed in. This expression is so familiar…it’s the same sort of maniacal glee I get when I’ve scored a truffle or a bowl of ice cream. It’s got that, “STAY OUT OF MY WY OR I’LL EAT YOU TOO!” vibe to it. Ah, good times.

I live in an area filled with winding single lane roads, mountains and rural tranquility which works out really well for me 2.5 weeks out of every month. However, during the middle of the third week, when PMS rolls in like a summer storm (or a bad cliche), it’s just plain annoying.

One-lane roads that are also very windy make it nearly impossible to pass people who like driving s-l-o-w-l-y. Please don’t meander for 30 minutes on a windy country road. Please pull over. Please speed up. Please get out of my way.

When I find myself behind you during this delicate time of the month, I suddenly become Marge Simpson behind the wheel of her humongous Canyonero. Only my car’s not a huge SUV, it’s a not-so-zipply little Toyota that my PMS-addled brain THINKS is a huge SUV.

I don’t tailgate or gun the engine (as if my shrimpy car would intimidate anyone). I mutter to myself and get a slightly psychotic glare of rage in my eyes and suddenly I’m screaming:

DRIVE, FUCKER, DRIVE!!!

No, that doesn’t make me feel better. And no, my kids aren’t in the car when I lose it (usually). But that’s PMS for you. Screaming like that of course gives me a headache which can only be cured by popping four Motrin , washing them down with a Cafe Mocha and eating a large piece of cheesecake. There is absolutely no logic to the above reaction. I’m normally a very defensive driver.

This post and this post are what I get for letting a man contribute to this blog. Still, it’s good to have a different perspective on PMS, I suppose. But it’s not like he didn’t expect some kind of retaliatory response, right? So without further ado…

First thing’s first….Entrapment, my ASS! But let me please address your issues more succinctly, PMS  Victim.

“For me, it’s not just one week a month, it’s two. The first week she’s an emotional wreck and the 2nd week the she-bitch comes to a head. What in the hell happened to the woman I first started dating? I swear she never had periods then. In fact, I’m rather sure all the girlfriends I had before my wife never had periods either – is this some evil trick to dupe us men?”

Guess what, this is the same woman you started dating all those years ago. PMS is not a deep dark secret – however, it’s very different living with someone who has PMS than it is dating someone with PMS (I imagine). If we went around moaning and clutching our aching breasts all the time, then we’d get nothing done (and neither would you). So, no, it’s not an evil trick – it’s called having a high tolerance for pain. Consider the fact that she lets her guard down enough to show you she’s uncomfortable a compliment.

“But wait, I understand that once a month she’s going to cry uncontrollably at commercials and very soon after that she’s going to bite my head off for something that I do every day.”

You’re probably more consistently annoying than you realize. PMS doesn’t cause annoyance – it just removes some of the layers of patience that protects you from our rage on a regular basis. I’m going to resist giving any marital advice here…moving on…

“I understand women get cranky and pissy as they bleed out every month, I understand that woman go through this excrutiating thing called child birth and I understand that you have to have cold pieces of metal jammed up there and your boobs squished in some hideous machine at least once a year. What I don’t understand is how you (women) hide it until we’re trapped in a legally binding document.”

I think what’s actually happening is that you are completely oblivious to a woman’s discomfort until you’re forced to deal with it, which kind of has to happen when you marry someone.

I mean, I understand that when men get kicked in the balls it’s really painful, but I never realized just how bad it was until I witnessed it firsthand and the poor schmuck doubled over and turned purple. Who knew?

How to make a woman happy…………..

It’s really not difficult to make a woman happy.

A man only needs to be:

1. A friend
2. A companion
3. A lover
4. A brother
5. A father
6. A master
7. A chef
8. An electrician
9. A carpenter
10. A plumber
11. A mechanic
12. A decorator
13. A stylist
14. A sexologist
15. A gynecologist
16. A psychologist
17. A pest exterminator
18. A psychiatrist
19. A healer
20. A good listener
21. An organizer
22. A good father
23. Very clean
24. Sympathetic
25. Athletic
26. Warm
27. Attentive
28. Gallant
29. Intelligent
30. Funny
31. Creative
32. Tender
33. Strong
34. Understanding
35. Tolerant
36. Prudent
37. Ambitious
38. Capable
39. Courageous
40. Determined
41. True
42. Dependable
43. Passionate
44. Compassionate

WITHOUT FORGETTING TO:

45. Give her compliments regularly
46. Love shopping
47. Be honest
48. Be rich
49. Not stress her out
50. Not look at other girls

AND AT THE SAME TIME, HE MUST ALSO:

51. Give her lots of attention, but expect little himself
52. Give her lots of time, especially time for herself
53. Give her lots of space, never worrying about where she goes

IT IS VERY IMPORTANT:

54. Never to forget:
* birthdays
* anniversaries
* arrangements she makes

HOW TO MAKE A MAN HAPPY

1. Show up naked
2. Bring food
3. Bring alcohol