TMI Thursday

Okay, so my TMI is real-time. I’m PMS’ing.

I’ve been going through this nearly every month since the tender age of eleven or twelve, and yet, it still takes me awhile to catch on.  Why is that?

Day One:   I want to eat bad stuff. Like peanut butter eggs and hostess cupcakes and fried anything and chocolate chips straight out of the bag, and would it be really rude to drink the clarified butter when I’ve finished my lobster? Yes? Okay, I’ll wait till my boss uses the restroom. Why am I craving all this bad, horrible stuff? Why can’t I put the fork down?

Day Two:  I feel fat. I am five pounds heavier than I was this time last week. I have a bloat bump. None of my clothes look right. Am a cow. Surely will have to grease my ginormous hips through my office door. My face is ugly. My skin is all washed out, and my nose is wrong. My eyes are too small. My hair is gross. Why do I feel so fat and ugly?

Day Three:  I wake up irritated. Irritated with the dog. Irritated with WH (even if he’s not home- why does he leave his boxers on the bathroom counter, when is he going to cook that ground beef he thawed?! HE IS WASTING GROUND BEEF. If he lets it go bad, I will make him eat it raw.). Irritated with drivers- YOU! IN THE PRIUS! THANKS FOR PULLING OUT IN FRONT OF ME AND GOING 20 MILES PER HOUR. OBAMA HATES YOU. HE HATES PEOPLE THAT MAKE ME LATE WHEN MY BOSS IS IN TOWN. JESUS HATES YOU TOO****.  Irritated with WH for asking me to have lunch with him when he knows I can’t commit to that because my boss is here, and why would he do that, is he putting me in a position to have to choose so he can tell me later that I don’t care enough about him, that if I really loved him I would insist that my boss let me have lunch with him? Why couldn’t he just invite me tomorrow? He KNOWS I would rather have lunch with him than anyone else?! And now I feel like I missed out on something and I’m a bad wife and something has been taken away from me. Who to hate more? Boss or husband? The sound of anyone’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard.  Why are all these people being so goddamned difficult?!

Oh. Wait. Hmm. Put third patch on four days ago. Let me check… wait for it… yep! The new moon starts today. Maybe it’s me?
Now that I’ve figured it out, I will continue to be a junk food stuffing, whiny, self-depreciating bitch. I will say mean and nasty things to WH without thinking about it, and then immediately apologize, thus denying him any ability to be hurt or hold me accountable. I will cry at the drop of a hat. My stomach will start to bother me, either as a function of my hormones or as a result from all the crap I’m eating.

And then, at my utter apex of undesirable behavior, I will look over at WH, bat my eyelashes, and threaten him within an inch of his life if he doesn’t serve up the lovin’. Should he want to eat, sleep, or take care of some other need before he addresses mine, I will take it as a sign that our marriage is in trouble and that he hates me. Then, in a an hour or so, when he’s ready, I won’t have anything to do with him. I’ll tell him I don’t feel well. Let’s take a nap. We’ll take care of this later. After my nap. And we will. We will take a nap, and I will wake up bleeding.

I will then wonder why he’s such an asshole for the next week.

Even though we’ve gone through this process every month since we’ve lived together.

Don’t you wish you lived with me?

** When people have religious or political bumper stickers on their car, and they are in front of me and annoying me, I tell them that whoever they support (Obama, Jesus) hates bad drivers. It’s my special kind of road rage. I don’t really think Jesus hates them.