Dear PMS:

This is one of those kiss-off letters where I would like to politely tell you to go away. However, since I know that isn’t going to happen, allow me to be blunt.

You suck.

You are screwing with my life and my body right now, as you do every month, and it SUCKS.

I haven’t slept in 3 days because each month you insist on bringing about a week of insomnia. It’s wonderful to stumble around my days in a fog of drowsiness. . Every month, you rob me of a week of sleep without fail. Oh, you were sneaky about it and it took me a while to figure out your pattern, but I’m onto you. I “LOVE” the fact that you’re inconsistent about it though. The other night, I couldn’t get to sleep because you wouldn’t LET me go to sleep. The next night, you let me sleep for a couple of hours then kept me up for a few. And then last night I was up a bit late and just as I was nodding off, and turned off my reading light to slip blissfully into a much needed slumber, you sent in your cavalry to perk me right up. You make my brain race with spastic thought processes so that I ponder all the wonders of the universe, organize my closets and try to figure out the taxes at 2 in the morning. Freaking, thank you. I did end up taking a Tylenol to beat your butt down though last night and did eventually get to sleep.

And the way you are screwing with my weight? Fan-freaking-tastic.

I particularly loved how last Wednesday evening at 8:45; oh yes, there was an exact time, you did a very dramatic bloat session where I could FEEL my pants get tighter over a 2 minute span. I swear there was an audible *POP* as I filled up with fluids. There’s nothing like gaining 3 lbs of water (that feels like 20!) in a matter of a few minutes. The 1 pair of jeans I can get into this week, are looking a bit worn.

And the cravings? Those are great too. REAALLLLYYY great. (layin’ on the sarcasm kinda thick here). Here I was, rockin’ along with my little diet, making some good progress and moving toward my goal. Then, WHAM. You send in the cravings for salty and CHOCOLATE and eating everything in sight. So, while I’m not necessarily caving to this, I’m thinking about trying NOT to think about food all day, every day. It’s exhausting and I’m already tired.

And to round things out nicely, because I don’t already feel enough like crap, is the clumsiness. You know, the key losing, glass dropping, water spilling, head banging, finger cutting clumsiness. It comes on with such obviousness that Hubster always watches me from a distance and says “Whoa! I see it’s THAT time of the month, again”. And then he whimpers and scurries away to hide because my Medusa head pops out from my shoulder to snap at him from across the room. Yup, lovin’ the mood swings too.

Oh, the mood swings. I’m weepy, crabby, impatient, frustrated, growly and just plain ole bitchy on top of being tired, bloated, crampy and constipated. I’m so much fun to be around. So. Much. Fun. I wish I could get away from myself.

And now I need to limp away from the computer, because some nice cramps (are you offended that I’m telling you off? Oh, too bad, but THANKS for kickin’ me when I’m down) are telling me it’s time for some Advil, and then I need to actually to function today.

The only saving grace for me right now is to know that, in a few days, I will feel “normal” again.

As much as I wish you’d be gone forever, I know I’ll see you again next month.

Unfortunately, Torturously Yours
Lefty