Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Truffles, Wine and My Monthly Time Out

Men, go away now. Seriously. Don't make me have to tell you twice. If you weren't born with a vagina, I don't want you reading this. You've been warned.

I've come to realize that there are certain times in my life that I need to remove myself from the general population for both my own sake and for the sake of everyone else. This time happens every month...

Yes, I'm talking about my time of the month.

I get serious PMS. Do not pass go, do not collect $200 (unless that money is for chocolate, potato chips, coffee, muscle relaxers and wine), I go from semi-bitch to raging bitch in 2.5 seconds. My hormones are crazy, I cry at the drop of a hat, and nothing makes me happy. On top of all of this, my face breaks out like a 15 year old. For crying out loud, I'm 31. This shit shouldn't happen anymore.

Courtesy of How Many Are There?
I can always tell when my period is getting close, because I cry at the end of TV shows. Doesn't matter what the show is- The Walking Dead, Dexter, The Big Bang Theory- I cry. That's when the light bulb goes on, and in a perfect world, I would be allowed to lock myself in the bedroom for a week or so until it passes. Unfortunately, moms don't get to take time off of work, especially not once a month, every month.

The next symptom that pops up is the acne. My face turns into pepperoni pizza, and I have to steal my daughter's zit cream. Yeah, that's fun, right?

Then the bitchiness takes over. I'm not happy being lazy or being productive. One minute I'm telling the kids they can't go outside to play, then the next minute I'm screaming at them to get as far away from me and the house as they can. And Hubby? He can't do a damn thing right for a week straight no
matter what he's doing. He gets the brunt of it, but I'm sure that's just because he's the biggest target. And, he's a men, and when I'm on my period, men suck.

The final stage makes the bitchiness completely consume me- the My Pants No Longer Fit Because of Bloating stage. I'm already down to 3 pairs of jeans that are comfortable on me as it is, and during my PMS session, even those don't fit. Nothing makes you want to crawl into bed and cry more than not fitting into any clothes except for your fat lounging pants (and let me tell you, I'm about 99% sure my fat pants are maternity. I got them on the clearance rack and they were missing an outside tag, but they go up to my boobs and say they are a large). I'm already a raging bitch, and now looking like ass on top of feeling like ass makes me hate the world.

This is all before my actual period starts. Once that begins, it's all over. Hot Mess Mom described it best in her post "If you are a man.. you do NOT want to read this" referring to the pain she goes through each month as having "labia-ninjas". Seriously, that's me. I'll be walking through the store and all of a sudden have shooting pains in my vag. Then they'll disappear. I've described it in the past as feeling like my vagina is trying to eat my body from the inside, or pack itself up and run right out of me. It sucks... majorly.

All of this from start to finish, for over a week of my life- almost 2 weeks. Every. Single. Month. I'm tired of it. I've handed Hubby a knife before and told him to just cut my uterus out of me. He has yet to do it, either out of love for me, or out of a sadistic enjoyment of watching my womanhood torture me every month. I haven't decided which it is yet.

Courtesy of USDoctor
And it's beginning. I jumped all over a woman online yesterday for writing an article about autism that wasn't factually based, yet it wasn't an opinion piece, either. She replied at one point that she must have struck a nerve with me, presuming that I had a child with autism. I don't. The only nerve she struck with me was writing an article that was shit-ily composed and had very little basis in fact, but wasn't presented as an opinion article, either.

This is the shit that happens when my PMS starts. All of the things that I think in my head on a regular basis, I act upon. I comment on stuff I shouldn't comment on. I wake up in the morning on election day and immediately post a personal status on facebook that people need to keep their election bullshit to themselves and if any of them tell me I'm unAmerican for not voting, I'll defriend them immediately. I jump all over a woman because she wrote a nothing-article... who cares if she wrote a nothing-article? The article didn't even pertain to me. And yet, I jumped all in her Kool-Aid without knowing the flavor.

Seriously, once a month I need to be locked away in a room and fed pancakes under the door. Better yet, I need to climb into bed with a box of truffles, a bag of cheesy poofs, a bottle of wine and movies like "Magic Mike", "The Notebook" or "Sweet Home Alabama".  But no, I'm a mom with responsibilities. I have dinners to cook and lunches to pack and homework to check and laundry to do... even though the more interaction I have with anyone besides myself and the cats, the more the possibility that someone will get injured, either physically or emotionally.

Does anyone out there actually get time off during this time of the month? Any understanding husbands that let you hide away for even one night? I'd love to know! And, any ideas on comfort stuffs to try and help make this better is great appreciated, too.

And if y'all notice I'm a raging bitch or extra sensitive on facebook around this time each month, just tell me to grab my truffles and wine and go to time out. It'd be for the best of everyone if I did so.

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  1. It sounds like you might have PMDD (Premenstrual dysphoric disorder), which I describe as PMS on crack. I was diagnosed with it after years of becoming crazy depressed and immobilized by pain every month. You might want to talk to your doctor about it, cause there is treatment for it, which in my case was practically life changing. Although wine probably works too. Just my 2 cents...feel better!

    1. I've heard of that before, just never thought of going to the doctor about it. I may have to look into it... for now, wine, lol.

  2. I feel your pain. I go psycho-bitch crazy. My hubby notices it before I do anymore (my lady schedule is out of whack) and he tells me to go take a time-out. Yeah, it makes me feel like I am a toddler, but I realize it is for the best of EVERYONE in our house. I get the horrendous pain and I double over every time. Finally I told my hubby I have had enough of this crap, so I called the doctor and made an appointment for a few weeks from now. I agree with Rachel, call your doctor. I hope you feel better!

    1. I know my Hubby would love for me to go to the doctor about this, lol. Thanks for your comment!