PMS
My sight got cloudy and my knees went jelly. With the dull throb of a budding headache, cold sweat ran down my forehead and a wave of lightheaded nausea enveloped me.
No, I didn't just do a hit of ecstacy, I really haven't in ages. I'm talking about this morning while I was in Farmer's Market, purchasing supplies for our restaurants. Normally I take my time picking out stuff to tick off the marketing list, but this morning, I just wanted to get it over with and hurry back home.
It was no help that I spoke to my hypochondriac sister and told her about my episode. She told me the symptoms indicate of diabetes, which she warns of the onset for those predisposed (meaning, us) to be in the 40s (meaning, me). Uh-oh, I thought to myself, here come the dreaded maintenance meds ... Why, I ask myself, am I still taking too much sugar in despite my low carb/sugar Southbeached system? I doubt it. It must be the durian dreams. Or maybe someone is dripping me pancake syrup intravenously while I sleep.
I thought to drink lots of cold water then, my favorite drink, and decidedly felt better after that. Then all of a sudden, I had an intense, lustful craving for chocolate. I immediately made me a mug of my second favorite drink -- warm cocoa with skim milk, nicely sweetened with Splenda. Splendid indeed.
And then it hit me. Of course I was PMSing, since yesterday! My ever regular period was due today and it is certainly here as I speak. No wonder the short antenna flew off the wireless phone earlier as I was being too short fused and putting the damn thing down like I were slamming a fricken door.
I was just reading about a man's take on PMSing women and got really annoyed over it -- ooops, another PMS sign. And then I realize, they don't exaggerate. The hormones do.
And so I have to live with it. Why, my husband does. Even on red-light mood, sore breasts, bipolar tastebuds, bloatedness and migraine regardless, I know I'll survive it each time. It's nothing that a breakfast of Advil and hot cocoa can't fix. Besides, I've got a steady supply of tampax, and an even steadier hubby who loves me even when my hormones go crazy on me. PMS? No big deal. Certainly nothing a woman can't handle.
Filed Under: Pain
No, I didn't just do a hit of ecstacy, I really haven't in ages. I'm talking about this morning while I was in Farmer's Market, purchasing supplies for our restaurants. Normally I take my time picking out stuff to tick off the marketing list, but this morning, I just wanted to get it over with and hurry back home.
It was no help that I spoke to my hypochondriac sister and told her about my episode. She told me the symptoms indicate of diabetes, which she warns of the onset for those predisposed (meaning, us) to be in the 40s (meaning, me). Uh-oh, I thought to myself, here come the dreaded maintenance meds ... Why, I ask myself, am I still taking too much sugar in despite my low carb/sugar Southbeached system? I doubt it. It must be the durian dreams. Or maybe someone is dripping me pancake syrup intravenously while I sleep.
I thought to drink lots of cold water then, my favorite drink, and decidedly felt better after that. Then all of a sudden, I had an intense, lustful craving for chocolate. I immediately made me a mug of my second favorite drink -- warm cocoa with skim milk, nicely sweetened with Splenda. Splendid indeed.
And then it hit me. Of course I was PMSing, since yesterday! My ever regular period was due today and it is certainly here as I speak. No wonder the short antenna flew off the wireless phone earlier as I was being too short fused and putting the damn thing down like I were slamming a fricken door.
I was just reading about a man's take on PMSing women and got really annoyed over it -- ooops, another PMS sign. And then I realize, they don't exaggerate. The hormones do.
And so I have to live with it. Why, my husband does. Even on red-light mood, sore breasts, bipolar tastebuds, bloatedness and migraine regardless, I know I'll survive it each time. It's nothing that a breakfast of Advil and hot cocoa can't fix. Besides, I've got a steady supply of tampax, and an even steadier hubby who loves me even when my hormones go crazy on me. PMS? No big deal. Certainly nothing a woman can't handle.
Filed Under: Pain
Poppycock | 10/26/2004 |
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