![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
rhedkrow.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
menstrualhutThat’s the third time I’ve been called bitch in as many days.
I wonder why? All right, I admit that sometimes I can be a bit sharp tongued with my comments but my God! The guys I worked with were like wild untamed children! Constantly throwing their oh-so-witty jibes at me so that I had to be on perpetual guard. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was going to let fly! You think I was going to let them get away with it??
I should point out that I’m not usually so caustic. It’s just that well… I’m premenstrual and my hormones are running amok. Every month I run through a head spinning set of emotions as my uterine lining prepares to peel itself away from the walls of my womb. If this makes me manic then so be it. It wont be the first time I’m accused of being manic. It’s also, funnily enough, a time when I say sorry a lot.
I am not normally a depressive person. I’ve never been prone to extended bouts of depression, but when this hits it’s like being trapped in a whirlpool of chaotic emotions all spiralling downwards into this violent vortex, unable to do anything to slow it down, forced to watch as my own self worth nose dives into oblivion. When I’m like this, I like to write Gothic poetry about ravens feasting on eyeballs or something silly like that.
It all begins with the first day when I start to feel rather dejected and sorry for myself. The trigger may be something as innocent as having a bad hair day, which then rapidly escalates into extreme self-pity. Once I’m in this pit of deepest darkest despair, I wallow in my own misery. I say the most irrational things to myself, i.e. I’m ugly and fat, I’m never going to have a fulfilling relationship, and the silliest one of all, I’m a nobody with no future because I’m stupid. Yes, I am cringing too, pathetic am I not? Ok, you can stop nodding violently now…No, I am serious. Stop nodding…don’t make me stop you...
Funnily enough, this only lasts a day. Exactly twenty-four hours. Then all is forgotten I return to my semi-normal self and I move onto the next phase of my menses. The ability of turning into a wanton sex-starved beast at the drop of a hat (or pants for that matter.) However, I’ve amazing self-control, which prevents me from picking up the first guy that says something complimentary about my looks. Now on the other hand if the gentleman in question complimented me on my intellectual abilities then my amazing self-control would be in much deeper jeopardy. You must remember that these phases develop within days of each other, and trust me I’ve spoken to other women about this and I believe that, after careful consideration, I may be a freak.
The third and last phase is the nastiest and scariest. The third one, shall I say...really puts men on their toes? I turn into a burlesque Basque in a manner of speaking. I don't know why but I seem to get off on engaging in acidic verbal banter. Men back off when I tell them outright in a deadpan voice, " I’m premenstrual. " The abject fear I see in their eyes internally makes me want to smirk and cry at the same time. Do you guys think I enjoy being a dragon and breathing fire at the most innocuous comment thrown my way?
Well I do.
Luckily for the male population, I am not in a relationship right now, as the hapless male I do end up with will cop it very rough when Mercedes goes through the three day phase of her menses. It’s actually quite a good tool for weaning out the boys from the men. I call it the ‘Trial of Fire’. The man must prove himself worthy of me by either, not snapping back at me after I have snapped at him first (yes that’s right that’s how things work in MY world), not telling me to calm down when it’s perfectly obvious that I am calm and not telling me to be quiet when I feel like repeating myself at least fifty times in a loud screeching voice. The relief is so apparent when the menses finally arrives that you can actually feel the atmosphere release its collective breath.
It’s like the unclogging of a dam, and not just physically, psychologically too. Like nature herself my menses doesn’t give a damn who or what gets caught in the way. It just ploughs right on through without a care in the world. My manic moods do calm down considerably though, but it is a gradual tapering off. The only thing that never truly vanishes is my tendency to be a tad vitriolic.
I’m not sorry to say that I look after this particular habit of mine rather well. How can I not when the world is full of idiotic men and women? I happened to work for a service garage for a time. Yes an environment usually reserved traditionally for men. I was the only female there. So it was that these idiotic men would stretch the tether of what little patience I had been born with, which mind you wasn’t much anyhow.
For the most part the atmosphere was stress free. The only time I felt like opening fire on them with my Colt M16 and slitting the throats of any survivors, and maybe scalping one or two, was when they ganged up on me to enjoy a little spate of Lets-pick-on-Mercedes-Time. It was the only time that they could manage to really press my buttons and rile me. They knew they would crash and burn if they tried it individually.
They would die! They would die! They would die! Ahem…Sorry.
My previous boss had to be the most accident-prone man I had ever met. In the time I had worked for him he had burnt his stomach with engine fluid, sprained his ankle on some low steps and burnt his forehead on an exhaust pipe. Which, I helpfully pointed out, had made him look like Mikhail Gorbachev. I have read somewhere that whilst you are on your period it can make other people somewhat clumsy.
He would go into convulsive fits every time I mentioned I was premenstrual. He would say that he doesn’t have to hear about my womanly problems! Then again I don’t have to hear about how lovely and cosy it is to wake up surrounded by all his animals, now do I? How the sound of his cat purring allowed him to rest peacefully, secure in the thought that, yes, all truly was right in the world.
It’s only a fair exchange of information I think. Women’s problems, bah! What problems? It’s only a problem if I’ve run out of pads or tampons, which means I get to leave lovely red prints everywhere I sit. Then again I wouldn’t call that a problem either I thinks it more of an artistic expression of my womanhood, rather like a crimson Rorschach inkblot. Tell me, what mood does that shape remind you of?
I like to call myself a *precocious menstruator*. In high school I would raise my hand in class and say, “ Sir, can I be excused? The teacher would then ask me what for and I would reply quite blithely, “ To change my pad because I have my period, sir.” A look of scandalised shock would briefly contort his features while muffled giggles could be heard in the background. Strangely enough, that particular teacher never again asked me ‘what for?’
Sometimes I think would I be better off taking that sappy evening primrose oil? My mother swears by it and I’ve heard many other women do to. I did take it for a while but found that it did absolutely nothing for my radical mood swings. Maybe it’s because I’m too far-gone or maybe it’s because I love my attitude problem so much that I cannot bear to have it drugged down and deformed into some pathetic semblance of womanly docility, either way it’s staying. I revel in my once a month insanity and I will continue to do so till I reach menopause.
Hmm…menopause, I think it’s better if we don’t get into that one right now, as God knows how I will react to that one…
I wonder why? All right, I admit that sometimes I can be a bit sharp tongued with my comments but my God! The guys I worked with were like wild untamed children! Constantly throwing their oh-so-witty jibes at me so that I had to be on perpetual guard. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was going to let fly! You think I was going to let them get away with it??
I should point out that I’m not usually so caustic. It’s just that well… I’m premenstrual and my hormones are running amok. Every month I run through a head spinning set of emotions as my uterine lining prepares to peel itself away from the walls of my womb. If this makes me manic then so be it. It wont be the first time I’m accused of being manic. It’s also, funnily enough, a time when I say sorry a lot.
I am not normally a depressive person. I’ve never been prone to extended bouts of depression, but when this hits it’s like being trapped in a whirlpool of chaotic emotions all spiralling downwards into this violent vortex, unable to do anything to slow it down, forced to watch as my own self worth nose dives into oblivion. When I’m like this, I like to write Gothic poetry about ravens feasting on eyeballs or something silly like that.
It all begins with the first day when I start to feel rather dejected and sorry for myself. The trigger may be something as innocent as having a bad hair day, which then rapidly escalates into extreme self-pity. Once I’m in this pit of deepest darkest despair, I wallow in my own misery. I say the most irrational things to myself, i.e. I’m ugly and fat, I’m never going to have a fulfilling relationship, and the silliest one of all, I’m a nobody with no future because I’m stupid. Yes, I am cringing too, pathetic am I not? Ok, you can stop nodding violently now…No, I am serious. Stop nodding…don’t make me stop you...
Funnily enough, this only lasts a day. Exactly twenty-four hours. Then all is forgotten I return to my semi-normal self and I move onto the next phase of my menses. The ability of turning into a wanton sex-starved beast at the drop of a hat (or pants for that matter.) However, I’ve amazing self-control, which prevents me from picking up the first guy that says something complimentary about my looks. Now on the other hand if the gentleman in question complimented me on my intellectual abilities then my amazing self-control would be in much deeper jeopardy. You must remember that these phases develop within days of each other, and trust me I’ve spoken to other women about this and I believe that, after careful consideration, I may be a freak.
The third and last phase is the nastiest and scariest. The third one, shall I say...really puts men on their toes? I turn into a burlesque Basque in a manner of speaking. I don't know why but I seem to get off on engaging in acidic verbal banter. Men back off when I tell them outright in a deadpan voice, " I’m premenstrual. " The abject fear I see in their eyes internally makes me want to smirk and cry at the same time. Do you guys think I enjoy being a dragon and breathing fire at the most innocuous comment thrown my way?
Well I do.
Luckily for the male population, I am not in a relationship right now, as the hapless male I do end up with will cop it very rough when Mercedes goes through the three day phase of her menses. It’s actually quite a good tool for weaning out the boys from the men. I call it the ‘Trial of Fire’. The man must prove himself worthy of me by either, not snapping back at me after I have snapped at him first (yes that’s right that’s how things work in MY world), not telling me to calm down when it’s perfectly obvious that I am calm and not telling me to be quiet when I feel like repeating myself at least fifty times in a loud screeching voice. The relief is so apparent when the menses finally arrives that you can actually feel the atmosphere release its collective breath.
It’s like the unclogging of a dam, and not just physically, psychologically too. Like nature herself my menses doesn’t give a damn who or what gets caught in the way. It just ploughs right on through without a care in the world. My manic moods do calm down considerably though, but it is a gradual tapering off. The only thing that never truly vanishes is my tendency to be a tad vitriolic.
I’m not sorry to say that I look after this particular habit of mine rather well. How can I not when the world is full of idiotic men and women? I happened to work for a service garage for a time. Yes an environment usually reserved traditionally for men. I was the only female there. So it was that these idiotic men would stretch the tether of what little patience I had been born with, which mind you wasn’t much anyhow.
For the most part the atmosphere was stress free. The only time I felt like opening fire on them with my Colt M16 and slitting the throats of any survivors, and maybe scalping one or two, was when they ganged up on me to enjoy a little spate of Lets-pick-on-Mercedes-Time. It was the only time that they could manage to really press my buttons and rile me. They knew they would crash and burn if they tried it individually.
They would die! They would die! They would die! Ahem…Sorry.
My previous boss had to be the most accident-prone man I had ever met. In the time I had worked for him he had burnt his stomach with engine fluid, sprained his ankle on some low steps and burnt his forehead on an exhaust pipe. Which, I helpfully pointed out, had made him look like Mikhail Gorbachev. I have read somewhere that whilst you are on your period it can make other people somewhat clumsy.
He would go into convulsive fits every time I mentioned I was premenstrual. He would say that he doesn’t have to hear about my womanly problems! Then again I don’t have to hear about how lovely and cosy it is to wake up surrounded by all his animals, now do I? How the sound of his cat purring allowed him to rest peacefully, secure in the thought that, yes, all truly was right in the world.
It’s only a fair exchange of information I think. Women’s problems, bah! What problems? It’s only a problem if I’ve run out of pads or tampons, which means I get to leave lovely red prints everywhere I sit. Then again I wouldn’t call that a problem either I thinks it more of an artistic expression of my womanhood, rather like a crimson Rorschach inkblot. Tell me, what mood does that shape remind you of?
I like to call myself a *precocious menstruator*. In high school I would raise my hand in class and say, “ Sir, can I be excused? The teacher would then ask me what for and I would reply quite blithely, “ To change my pad because I have my period, sir.” A look of scandalised shock would briefly contort his features while muffled giggles could be heard in the background. Strangely enough, that particular teacher never again asked me ‘what for?’
Sometimes I think would I be better off taking that sappy evening primrose oil? My mother swears by it and I’ve heard many other women do to. I did take it for a while but found that it did absolutely nothing for my radical mood swings. Maybe it’s because I’m too far-gone or maybe it’s because I love my attitude problem so much that I cannot bear to have it drugged down and deformed into some pathetic semblance of womanly docility, either way it’s staying. I revel in my once a month insanity and I will continue to do so till I reach menopause.
Hmm…menopause, I think it’s better if we don’t get into that one right now, as God knows how I will react to that one…
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-04-12 07:12 pm (UTC)i really loathe being called a bitch while pms-ing (or any other time really)! i think i've earned the right with my symptoms and all.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-12 07:42 pm (UTC)i wrote that when i worked for a service garage, so yeah it did bring out the BITCH in me!!
i've recently found that st johns wort really alleviates the more 'savage' of my symptoms. i swear by it, works better than starflower or evening primrose!
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 05:19 am (UTC)birth control helped me out cramp-wise, but next month i'll be off it and i'm full of dread for my next period.
no subject
Date: 2005-04-14 05:48 pm (UTC)i use to have dreams where i'd insert an exhust pipe up his arse and then set him on fire....ahhh so satisfying.
seriously try st john's wort, i have extreme mood swings during pms and it really does work. my supply finished before my current period started and, woah, did i notice the difference!!
so did everyone around me, alas.