Monday, November 15, 2010

Hormones? I hate you.

Hormones suck. That is all.

Ok, no. That's not all. If that were all? This would be a Tweet. I'm not that hard up for blog posts that I'm resorting to five word posts.

Not yet, anyway.

The thing that I hate most about hormones? Is that they're sneaky. I don't get any kind of memo, special cramp, hallucination, or text from my hormones. The bitches just show up and crap up my life.

Thankfully, since mine are semi-regulated by court-ordered medication a prescription, I can usually be on the lookout for them about the same time every month.

Right around Wednesday in that 3rd row of pills, I have learned to be on the lookout for the signs.

About this time? I start having revelations. Revelations like "Wow. I look very puffy today." Followed shortly by "I have to pee! I have to pee! OMG...."

The revelation that I'm really F*ing tired hits me as I'm nodding off at my workstation. But I just slept 10 hours last night, how could I be tired??

Ok, see, that bit up there? Was just to give you a brief moment of insane jealousy. I don't *actually* get to sleep for 10 hours. Not in a row. The point is that I'm exceptionally exhausted, regardless of the length or quality of my sleep.

Really, tho, if you believed that? I'm worried about you...

And I'm hungry. Really hungry. Not for anything in particular. I don't really get cravings, per se. I just want, well, everything. I don't enjoy the food and really? I don't actually want it. It's more like a primordial drive to eat. Everything. Now.

Then there's the levitating pets. And my kids cowering behind the sofa. And my husband covered in green pea soup. And wow, my neck is really sore...


Ahh, yes. The demon psycho-bitch has arrived.

And there's poor little possessed me thinking "Gee, it's really not that big of a deal that Hub put the juice on the wrong shelf. What's with the sawed-off...wait..."

(Counts on fingers & reflects back to last night's pill location in the court ordered medication prescription)


It's the hormones.

Really? It would just be nice if there were of siren or something that would alert me to the arrival of hormones. Because nothing is more annoying than the question from Hub.

"Jeez...what, are you PMSing or something?"

"NO. Maybe. Shut up."

::flings levitated pet in his general direction::


  1. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Thank you SO MUCH for this post! I followed u here from Mushroom Printing, and came straight to this post from your "WTH Am I Talking About?" page. Provenance observed, I cannot say THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU enough! This is PRECISELY what happens so during that TOM.

    I'm cranky (-ier, maybe) for no good reason. I'm convinced that everyone is intentionally trying to work my last nerve, which is rapidly shrinking AND increasing in sensitivity. I begin to wonder exactly how many people I'm going to have to murder to raise the IQ of those around me by a paltry few tenths of a point.

    It hits me about 12 hours later, after I've bitten of several heads and possibly broken down crying in frustration over WHY EVERYONE ELSE IS SO F'ING STUPID!!! That I realize...oh! THAT'S why I also wanted chocolate covered potato chips! Ok, we're fine now! And skip merrily on my way, while the survivors of the near-atomic rage crawl out from under their rocks to seek therapy or booze or whatever they can to soothe their shell-shocked minds...until next month.

    So...yeah, just saying? I get you. I recommend buying white disposable painter's outfits from Home Depot and sharpening an axe, just to throw them off their guard ;-) Love the blog!

  2. OMG. I love the disposable painter's outfit. That is a F*ing genius idea! [files away for future reference]

    Also? Welcome! I love to be gotten. I'm an attention whore that way. :)