Several years ago, I was in Anchorage for a conference and had to go to Fred Meyers to get groceries and supplies to ship back to Barrow. I couldn’t figure out why the sea of people would part every time I entered a new aisle. When the mob of people circling the outrageously expensive, but fresh, strawberries scattered upon my approach, I scratched my head in bewilderment. It wasn’t until I reached the cashier and started unloading my cart that I figured it out. Can you imagine the message two gun cases, a bag of Oreos and a box a Midol transmitted?
Most people would say they have no idea when I’m suffering from PMS. As a matter of fact, a 9th grade student once gave me a little pink button that read: It’s not PMS. I’m always bitchy. Needless to say that little brat failed Civics. 🙂
Yes, I do get irritable. Yes, I have hardcore narcotics to deal with the cramping. And yes, I crave ice cream, but refuse to eat it, which leads us back to being irritable. So, yes, I’m an absolute delight to be around.
My biggest problem with PMS is I become overly emotional. Those of you who know me well are probably laughing at that statement. I cry constantly. Remember those long distance commercials? The crying Indian looking down into the polluted valley? Those ads for ASPCA with the puppies in cages. Shoot, I can’t even hear the word: “Sounder” without tearing up. Drives my friend Amethyst nuts. Although, God’s getting even because she’s dealing with some seriously wicked new-mama hormones and has become a weeping mass. Ha! Now, she knows. My normal weepiness is intensified during a lovely little bout of PMS. When it hits during Christmas, it’s deadly.
I was listening to Christmas music earlier and burst into tears when The Little Drummer Boy started playing. How sweet is that? He had nothing to give the newborn King except his music. Touching! Don’t get me started on how those mean, horrible reindeer treated little Rudolph! And Frosty….poor, poor Frosty. He was thumpity, thump, thumping around the square with all those little kids…and, and, sob!sob! He MELTED! He was so jolly and happy!
Oh, God. I can’t take it anymore. Where’s the fudge?!