We girls know how it goes. We’re just breezing along, enjoying life, and then BAM! a commercial about kittens makes us cry. It’s the first warning sign. We try to shrug it off, insist to ourselves that everything must be normal, and then BAM! the question about what to do for dinner makes us ball up our fists and wail. We know we can’t escape it now, but still we try to deny the reality of what is happening. Then? You got it, BAM! someone else’s good news sends us spiraling into a sobbing fit that cannot be calmed. Yep, it’s happened.
You know, I was one of those annoying teenage girls. My sister used to say that where most girls ran the roller coaster gamut of emotions that I just was like an a train running at a high level. I didn’t get sad, I didn’t really get mad, I was just glad all the time. I hate my earlier self now.
Since I was introduced to the joys of hormonal birth control? I’ve been a little psycho around that time of month. Typically about a week out. I want to eat nothing but Whataburger cheeseburgers and cry. Some months it’s better than others.
Right now? It fucking sucks. Pardon my French.
I was down on Friday, just plain down. I didn’t want to even smile at the puppy. I just wanted to curl up on the couch and be sad. Before the night was over I hyperventilated and sobbed while goofing off with B and tried to explain something complicated to him only to mess it up. Majorly.
I hate hormones.
Saturday wasn’t much better. I felt bad for the things I had said the night before.
(Let’s just say that I was trying to explain that I was frustrated that people judge us because I don’t have a huge engagement ring, so I get the sympathy “oh you got what you could afford and I feel sorry for you because it isn’t bigger” look, which totally isn’t the case. BUT, it came out wrong and B thought that I didn’t like my ring, which is also totally not the case. I love my ring. It’s a half carat diamond solitaire that fits me to a T. I’m just tired of people (thanks cuz, I’m looking at you) asking to see my ring and then give me the sympathy look and acting like they’re better than me because their ring is bigger. I mean geez, girl’s don’t even have dicks, so why do we have a bigger dick contest with a ring that we don’t even buy ourselves? Ahem, mini-rant over.)
This weekend became a tug of war of damage control. I didn’t log my food, but I didn’t eat just crap. Which is a major accomplishment because I’d have totally just eaten cheeseburgers this weekend if I wasn’t still trying to lose weight.
Today was finally a lot better. I just know I spent the weekend in the trenches with the hormones when the only thing I can think is that I want TOM to show up so I can go back to normal. Whatever the fuck that is anyway…