Every month I get a horrendous case of PMS that according to my husband lasts 4 out of 5 weeks of the month. I will complain I have PMS, then I will, according to him complain for the next week and week after and possibly the week after. For my sweet and loving husband who puts up with alot from me, this means that there is only a short window of opportunity for sex in our house these days.
I will admit that the week before I start pre-bitch mode because usually the headaches, sore boobs and zits start to show. Then the next week is when the dreaded Aunt Flo shows up and she stays for a week and it is always the worst week of my life. I spend the next week trying to recover from the previous 2 weeks traumatic events. I think I might dislike Aunt Flo more than anyone, but I am sure alot of other ladies might have as much as a hatred for her as I do. The worst thing about Aunt Flo is she never shows up on time and always catches me unprepared. You would think I would be prepared by now, but for some reason I am not. Being prepared would save alot of questions when we are in the Target bathroom and Regan asks why I am wearing a diaper. Try explaining what a maxi pad is to a almost 5 year old, not easy as well as the other 20 questions she is asking. She then usually loves to tell the check out lady about our bathroom experience. As discreet as I try to be, I can't put anything past her.
People always say embrace being a woman, it is such a beautiful thing, we can give the gift of life, blah, blah, blah. What woman likes going to a OB and having her feet up in stirrups once or twice a year while a doctor puts cold and sterile tools all up in our lady parts. While I love my children and am blessed to have them, squeezing something the size of a watermelon out of a hole the size of a pea is just not beautiful to me. The miracle of life is beautiful, but there are few parts in between I could do without.
It's not that I dislike being a woman, I just could do without the headaches, bloating, cramping and bleeding like a slaughtered pig every month. It's pretty bad when you are at the grocery store and a nice older man behind you in the line kindly tries to tell you that you may want to go to the ladies room because you have a slight problem that needs to be taken care of. I was not embracing my womanhood that day nor did I think it was such a beautiful thing.
My family and close friends are usually pretty aware that when PMS strikes that they are better off to stay away than attempt to talk to me. I usually try to stay away from people during this time frame too. The only ones that do not get the wrath of crazy PMS mommy is Regan, Parker and other little kids because they love me regardless if I am bitchy or not and they don't understand PMS, yet! If I am PMS'ing and you happen to cross me on a bad day, you may get this look and I promise you it is not pretty, sometimes my head will even start spinning.
My PMS and visits from Aunt Flo seemed to get worse after Regan and Parker, with age and having a tubal. My doctor tells me these things happen to woman who have children at an advanced maternal age, I am 40, not 80 and I am pretty sure having kids at 34 & 35 is not that old. They really should find a new word because telling that to an emotional pregnant woman or a woman with PMS could be hazardous to their health.
I am hoping to get my ablasion soon so I wont have to deal with Aunt Flo and hopefully life for me and everyone around me for those 3 weeks will be a much happier one.