I had a few interesting topic ideas I wanted to write about, but I’ve been PMSing like crazy this week and realized that I would probably ruin whatever topic I chose by being hormonally snarky. Instead, I decided to rant about the very thing that is putting me in a ranting mood.
So… here are five super random rant-worthy points about PMS:
PMS vs. Period Time
PMS stands for Pre-Mentrual Syndrome. This means the emotional moodiness strikes before the mess. I want to clear this up because some guys have taken to saying “PMS” instead of “period” because the word “period” makes them gag. I guess an acronym seems safer to them, but they are using it incorrectly; PMS and periods are related, but they are NOT the same thing. We suffer 2 distinct ailments and should be given credit for both.
Also, guys should grow up and realize that the word “period” is no grosser than the millions of words they’ve invented to reference their penises. Get over it.
“Emotional” is Not the Same as “Incompetent”
I’m normally a very happy positive person, but PMS week has me just a little more prone to depression and anger. Suddenly everyone’s comments have a cruel insulting subtext (e.g. “Megan Fox is so hot!” translates to, “why don’t you look like that, you ugly duck?”). And what is usually only slightly irritating behavior, such as cutting me off in traffic, suddenly becomes worthy of unholy language. Yes, I admit that I am more emotional during this week, but I am still the same person with the same ability to contribute to society.
I say this because one of my best guy friends told me that women shouldn’t be in positions of power because of PMS. So I slapped him in the face, threw myself on the ground, and wailed through tears that I am an amazing leader.
But here’s my real response to this idea: even if I’m not as happy as usual for one week a month, I’m still just as sharp and just as capable of doing my job. I have a brain that knows that excessive crying or anger is not productive and I am able to control my emotions in professional settings. Plus, I’m told that being with me on a moody day is still more pleasant than most men on their happy days anyway. So take that, grouchy men!
Pain is Real
I used to have awful cramps both during PMS week and during my period. I have many memories of coming home from school early because I couldn’t even sit up. One time my parents called 911 and the ambulance took me to the ER. Menstrual cramps are very real. Men who say cramps are “just a fake excuse for women to be lazy” are pathetic losers who deserve to be punched in the lower abdomen repeatedly for a week straight every 28 days. Also, those stupid educational videos they show in middle schools, where girls gleefully exclaim blatant lies such as, “It doesn’t hurt at all!” or “I just love how menstruating makes me feel like a real woman!” should be burned. Seriously.
Oh, and in case anyone is wondering, birth control is amazing and has significantly reduced the pain. Now I just wish there was a cure for feeling like a bloated whale.
Chocolate is My Favorite Medicine
I’m a total chocoholic. I love super dark chocolate – anything with at least 70% cocoa content (wimpy Hershey bars don’t cut it for me). I rarely turn down anyone who offers me an opportunity to indulge. This is true for me all the time, but during PMS week, my sweet love of chocolate turns into a raving demented NEED. No chocolate bar in my vicinity is safe.
I know I sound like some crazy addict who snorts cocoa powder, but it turns out that craving chocolate during this time is totally natural. Chocolate contains a lot of iron, and releases the happy hormone serotonin, both of which we are low on during PMS because of shifting estrogen levels. And the glorious reason that I can increase my chocolate intake once a month without gaining weight is because female metabolism speeds up during PMS! We burn like several hundred more calories a day than normal! Isn’t that awesome? Don’t worry, I heard all this on the Today Show a few years ago, so it must be true…
Hugs Fix Everything
Guys get scared when girls get emotional because they don’t know how to handle it. This is understandable, and sometimes I feel sorry for you guys, since it must be pretty awkward. You probably feel like Seth Rogan in Knocked Up when he yells at Kathrine Heigl’s hormones (“I know this isn’t you talking, it’s your hormones, but Iwould just like to say, “F*** you, hormones! You are a crazy bitch, hormones!”). But don’t do that. Here’s my advice: whenever a girl in your life starts crying or becomes unusually snappy, assume it’s hormonal and just offer a hug! I am super spoiled because one of my best friends is very intuitive and gives amazing hugs. Whenever he senses I’m not feeling great, I get a hug and suddenly my world gets brighter. Trust me boys, a hug will be infinitely better received than unsolicited advice, or the dreaded, “Oh, you’re on your period, aren’t you?”
Are you PMSing this week? Did you PMS at some point this month? Do you have any interesting PMS stories? Or have anything you want to rant about? The comment section is all yours 😀
Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel so gross and awful that you can barely function? I had one of those days this week. I felt and looked like death and had no intention of interacting with anyone that night. I hadn’t been able to sleep well in days, I had sweated off all my makeup earlier in the day and was too tired to reapply, and my allergies were killing me and making my eyes a bloodshot drippy mess. To top it all off, I had spent most of the day taking headshots of one of my best friends, who is a model, which had only served to remind me that I was not (and never would be) hot enough to be a model. So I felt hideously gross, super depressed, and physically sick. I was a wreck. I never would have left my apartment, except that I ran out of food and I wasn’t sure when I’d have another chance to go to the grocery store. So I mustered up what little energy I had left and made the trek to gather sustenance.
My goal was to get in and out as quickly as possible without talking to anyone, and I almost succeeded. Almost. I pushed my cart into the elevator, but was in such a daze that I took it up instead of down to the parking garage. My food and I rode up to the balcony of the shopping plaza as I cursed my stupidity. Then the doors opened, and in walked this cute guy. He paused to let me out and I awkwardly explained that I wasn’t getting out.
Now, everyone knows that the normal protocol for riding elevators is to ignore everyone else and stare at the wall or phone, as if deep in thought. I guess this guy doesn’t ride many elevators though, because he kept talking to me. He was very friendly and had a nice smile, which he couldn’t seem to turn off. About halfway down, I finally realized that he was hitting on me!
You have to understand that I rarely get hit on outside of Home Depot and Walmart parking lots. On the rare occasions that guys do take notice of me, it’s usually with that creepy “heyyy” kind of flirting. But this guy was different; he was nice, and he treated me like a human. I was in shock, this doesn’t even happen on days I look relatively good. This guy was special. When we got to my floor, he said, “You know, you’re pretty cute.” He must have some serious vision problems, but I was genuinely touched.
Unfortunately, this story has a very sad and anti-climactic ending, thanks to my sleep-deprived, allergy-ridden brain’s inability to function that night. I never ever give my number out to strange men because I’m always terrified that they could be serial killers, even seemingly nice ones. So when the guy asked if I had a boyfriend, I stupidly replied, “kind of.” What does that mean??? Funny you should ask me that, because he did too. I didn’t know the answer. The conversation came to an awkward end as I pushed my little cart out of the elevator and mentally kicked myself for not being a more eloquent liar.
I realized very quickly that he probably thought I was rejecting him because I didn’t think he was attractive or thought he was creepy or something. I felt horrible! I desperately wished that I could go back in time and explain that my brain wasn’t working very well, and that I thought he was cute too, and that I so appreciated his kind words, and that he made my crappy night a whole lot better.
So if by some far off chance you are reading this, sweet-guy-I-probably-should-have-married, thank you for making my night. I’m sorry for accidentally rejecting you. Here’s to hoping we meet in another elevator someday!