I am so miserable right now. It’s day 2 of my monthly curse, and I have the following symptoms:
I am in intense pain.
I want to cry for no reason.
I want to strangle someone for no reason.
I am exhausted even though I slept for almost twelve hours last night.
I cannot concentrate on anything.
I can barely remember my own name.
I am shaky for no reason.
Even though I am tired, I cannot sleep.
I want some chocolate.
No, I want LOTS of chocolate.
I can’t eat any chocolate because I also feel sick to my stomach.
I am too cold with the A/C on, so I’m wearing a swaetshirt and a blanket, but then I get too warm, then I take off the blanket and I’m freezing again.
Did I mention the pain?
I feel like no one loves me, even though my husband is being very loving and sympathetic right now.
Now I want to cry because I’m thinking of how much I love my husband.
I am way too emotional right now.
I feel incredibly whiny right now, but I don’t care because I am uncomfortable as hell.
I usually have a rough time this time of the month, but every so often (like now) it gets really bad.
I wish I could crawl into a hole and let the earth swallow me up.
Ugh. I felt like this yesterday and the day before (Thursday and Friday). My mom’s finally taking me to the gynecologist next week; hopefully the doctor can prescribe something that will make me not detest being a girl.
<<I want some chocolate.
No, I want LOTS of chocolate.
I can’t eat any chocolate because I also feel sick to my stomach.
>>
Have some strawberry licorice or something. That’s what I always have when I feel queasy, with a little bit of 7-UP. Then if worst comes to worst, at least it’s not too bad the second time around. (eww!)
I went on the Pill, two months ago. It saved my freakin’ life. I honestly would have considered shooting myself if things didn’t clear up from the puking, cramping mess I was. That may not be what works for you but I wish you luck.
While I never experienced classic PMS when I was younger; since entering perimenopause a few years ago, I have become the poster child for cyclic bitchiness.
Just last night the SO and I attended a Curtis Salgado/Robert Cray concert. It was at the lovely Britt Gardens in Jacksonville, Oregon. We had a divine dinner at the Jacksonville Inn before hand. We trudged up the hill to the concert bowl, with a basket of heavenly desserts and a bottle of fine wine, how romantic! Good food and wine under the summer stars!
But…I cringed when my SO put his hand on my thigh. “Don’t touch me there! You know I don’t like PDA’s!” “Don’t rub my shoulders in public! Stop that!” The other 23 days of the month, I would be molesting him. What’s wrong with this picture?
My SO is older and wiser than me. Thank goodness. He filled my wineglass to the brim, and force-fed me the Chocolate-Hazelnut torte w/raspberry sauce. It worked better than Prozac! He cracked a joke about ‘checking the calendar before planning the next romantic evening out’, and we both ended up laughing about it.
Curtis Salgado ROCKED, by the way. I could have listened to him all night long. Robert Cray was a disappointment; and I fell asleep on the SO’s shoulder after four songs. Perhaps I shouldn’t sell Robert Cray short. I was under the influence of Pinot Noir and chocolate.
truthbot: Nah. It wasn’t the wine & chocolate. I saw Robert Cray perform live a couple of years ago. Went with my husband, who is a blues guitar player himself and a fan of Robert Cray. Both of us were sorely disappointed. Boooooring! Especially after we had just had our hair parted & skirts blown up by Jimmie Vaughn. But B.B. King followed Robert Cray, and he was outstanding, of course.
Wait a sec…what the hell was the OP about? –Persephone,
[sub]who gets really, really forgetful during PMS…[/sub]
To be overly personal, perhaps, allow me to answer with, “Nothing.” The menses (with all their attendant woes and boons) are the hallmark of a woman and her fertility and therefore absolutely nothing to be ashamed of in any way. All of this might seem easy to say, and it may well be for the type of male who shrugs off any demanding behavior by a woman with, “It’s that time of month, yadda, yadditta…”, but not for real men.
From what is cited above, it would seem as though you have managed to find a real man and he a real woman. If you are the sort of real woman who would just as soon molest him as he you, then I congratulate you both and doff my hat to your man for being a first class guy. In the finest sense, you deserve each other.
Please show your real guy this reply. Good women deserve this sort of understanding on the part of their menfolk. There is nothing mysterious or arcane to understand for the male portion of the population, merely a comprehension of that which is quite easily the least familiar.
Any man desirous of a life partner to share children with who cannot just as easily praise his own lover’s fecundity is worse than a fool, he is an enemy of motherhood (and therefore, most women). However drastic this may sound, it is a simple fact. To conceive and parent healthy children requires an initial appreciation of all the implications involved and is obligatory for any man to claim any sort of understanding.
Zenster, great post. I am blessed to be married to one of these “real men” to whom you refer. Every month around this time, he does the following:
He offers to run to the store for any feminine products I may need.
He rents videos so that I feel like I am “doing something” even though I am not in the mood to actually do anything.
He makes me pasta, and then puts in back in the fridge if I suddenly decide that I cannot eat pasta because I am already bloated and I don’t want to get any fatter.
Even though I complain of being fat, he does not comment on the chocolate that I consume (often in mass quantities).
He refrains from trying to get physical with me since he knows that every area of my being is ultra-sensitive.
Just a little while ago, I went to take a sip of my juice and noticed that I had already finished it. Instead of just getting more juice or asking for more, I actually started to cry because I was out of juice (I hate PMS). He just got up, got my cup, and went and got me more juice.
I could never accurately describe to you how much I love this man
Neck and neck with the man who is willing to hold a woman’s purse, buying pads or whatsuch is the mark of a real man. I’m truly glad for you. Give that big bad boy a major smooch you happy dame.
I’m usually pretty good with the PMS, except on those months where I’ve not been good about taking my birth control pill at the same time every day. (Two months ago, there was a wide variation–8am one day, 3pm the next…and I accidentally skipped one day, which means doubling up the next. Summer really messes up my schedule–not teaching and getting ready at a regular hour–and MAN it messes up the hormones.)
Two months ago, I about had a breakdown. A little crampy, but beyond moody. A sore tooth was suddenly the end of the world–I was genuinely panicked by it. I was snappy, extraordinarily sensitive, and outright bitchy. I felt like I was on the fringes of sanity. Poor DeathLlama! Some months, I have to EAT. And I mean EAT! Anything, everything, even if I know I’m not hungry, even if I know I don’t like that food–I have to put it in my mouth and at least chew it up. God help us should I ever get pregnant.
Hang in there Jeannie. IANAD, but I find Primrose Oil–you can get it OTC–works really well for mood swings.
You’ve heard of those African cultures where they have huts outside the village for pre-menstruating/menstruating women? I read a recent theory that these huts were the women’s idea. I think that’s great.
It’s very difficult to control mood swings (not to mention saying just out-fucking-landish things) when you have a chemical problem like that. They’ve recently found that Prozac helps the extreme cases.
I hate PMS. I am having a major case of it, and have been having it for the past week and a half. I have the best boyfriend though. Last time I was on my period he went driving an hour out of his way to find me tampons at midnight because I was at home crying becasue we had run out. I love him. There is nothing better then a guy who understands how to treat a girl when she is like that.
I have awful PMS myself!
And God (or gods or fates…you pick’em) help me, my daughter, I believe, is this very night experiencing her first bout of PMS. She has been miserable all day, crying for no reason–actually LOOKING for a reason to cry, I swear!
I don’t know how I’m going to handle the two of us living in this house if hers is as bad as mine. At least I have someone to share my chocolate freak-outs with.
truthbot: It could have been, but my guess is that it was just Robert Cray. But if blaming it on PMS makes you feel better, then by all means, do it. I blame PMS for nearly everything, because…well, pretty much everything is PMS’s fault. Got lost on the way home from the grocery store (that’s only a mile away)? PMS. Eating everything that isn’t nailed down? Oh yeah. Sudden desire for a belly piercing and several new tatoos? Yep, PMS.
The best part of PMS (for me, anyway) is how different it is from month to month. I never know what’s coming with each cycle. Will I be a raving lunatic PsychoVixenBimboBitch From Hell, or a creative, erotic, Ancient-Deity-Channelling Love Goddess? Of course, I’m usually the former, but every once in a while, I have a good month.
I blame PMS for nearly everything, because…well, pretty much everything is PMS’s fault. Got lost on the way home from the grocery store (that’s only a mile away)? PMS. Eating everything that isn’t nailed down? Oh yeah. Sudden desire for a belly piercing and several new tatoos? Yep, PMS.