Sunday, June 6, 2010

Finding Forty, Day 11; Portrait of PMS

I'm writing earlier today than I usually do.   The past two nights, I've resisted writing and only at A's insistence have I sat down and knocked something out.

Today I'm here because I'm in the middle of fat girl in the closet meltdown and  had to step away before I did something dangerous and drastic.

We are getting ready to go out for errands and I'm attempting to get dressed.   What should be a 3 to 5 minute routine endeavor just took me close to 15 minutes.  

First I grabbed my "go to" white shorts.   Fresh from the laundry, they are my comfortable, but sassy friends.    Not today.   Slowly, I zipped the zipper but the button was resisting meeting the button hole.  It was like magnets repelling one another.   Finally, I forced the button through the hole.  Instantly, my muffin top oozed over the sides of the shorts.   My panties peeked over the waistline and rolled down in an annoyingly submissive move, most likely at the insistence of my belly fat.  My only saving grace was that the fabric around my ample thighs didn't feel squeezy or tight.   Gee, there's a silver lining!

I mentally ran through the list of all the blousy tops I had in my closet that I could wear to hide the atrocity  and realized, no matter how big the tent, the circus act underneath would be too annoying to deal with all day long, especially in this heat.

Plan B...I resorted to my old lady shorts.   They're the longer style shorts that I can wear to work and truly despise having to bust out on the weekend.  Even they were a bit snug, but I really have no other option today.    After three different shirt attempt and aborts, I've finally decided on a white tank top with an A line  knit top over it.  I feel ok.  Not great, not even all that good, just ok.   Whatever.

This is purely PMS.   Well, okay, it's PMS and two margaritas at lunch yesterday.  

For those of you fortunate enough to not get to experience PMS first hand, I'd like to paint a brief portrait.  I realize you get to live it vicariously through the lovely ladies in your life, but I have to put a voice to what 40 year old PMS feels like today.

I want to rip my face off.   It feels greasy and itchy, despite me washing it last night and this morning.  My skin goes insane when I PMS.    Let's not leave out the lovely zits that pop up, literally, overnight when I am PMSing.    At 40, for the first time in my life, I have an acne problem.   Lovely.

My moods swing more than a five year old at the park or bored, suburban couples who drink too much on the weekends.   One minute I'm calm, even keeled, dare I say...happy?  The next,  I'm pissed and angry or weepy and sad.   I never know which mood will emerge and how long it will last.   It's annoying, even to me.  I feel sorry for those in my path.

PMS is awesome for my weight too!   I have probably gained 5 pounds in two days, although you couldn't pay me any amount of money to get on the scale today.   It's most likely water weight.   I've already torn the medicine cabinet upside down looking for a water pill to take, in hopes that I can piss much of this bloat away today, but came up empty handed.   Next,  I downed two full glasses of water in a healthier effort to push it out.   When I am like this, I tell myself..."Ok, you ate a normal breakfast but eat light the rest of the day to help alleviate this", all the while knowing that by lunch time I'll be ravenous again.   It really disgusts me.

Sex is a blast when you're PMSing.   It's like your vagina goes on vacation and forgets to tell your head.   You think you're in the mood,  but then realize what you've got to offer is the Sahara freaking desert.    You proceed, because you know how great sex can be, despite not wanting to be kissed, caressed, or actually even looked at, lights on and/or off.   Instead of enjoying the moment, you're fixated on how many fat rolls your stomach creates, even while on your back!   Fun, fun times, I assure you.

What else can I say about PMS?   For me, it seems that the older I get, the sooner these symptoms start creeping into my day.    What once happened the few days before I started now seems to be present for a week or more before the big event.   What a great gift, thanks.   Also, as D day creeps closer, the symptoms intensify, as if a volcano is about to erupt.

People can discount PMS all they want, but I know it to be true.  My life, my routine, does not change enough throughout the course of the month to instigate the changes I experience as my body adjusts to the hormonal shifts it's experiencing.

In a word... crazy!

My apologies to all of you who have to be in my presence as this metamorphosis takes place.

It's always my fervent hope that the person who emerges on the other side is at the very least, tolerable and sane.

Wish me (and those all around me) luck!

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