A Day in the Life of a Woman with PMS
Fair Warning Ahead.
Morning:
Am I going to have diarrhoea? Ouch these cramps. Kill them. Kill them.
No no. It’s just the red alert time. I want to sleep the whole day.
If only I could go for a movie.
No no. I don’t want movies. I hate the day already.
‘Go eat some junk, and don’t smile,’ I tell the kid. He is in for a pleasant shock early morning.
Mid morning:
Something is bothering me.
I forgot to add sugar to my tea. Fuck these no-sugar diets. I WANT sugar in my tea.
I hate that guy at the shop counter who sold me rotten peas last month. I should have fought with him. Ok, agreed that was a long time back. But I can hate him after a month.
All these men are terrible. All of them I say! Except those clean-shaven good looking ones.
Everyone I know is so hateful. Doesn’t anyone realize how mean they are?Including this, this ignominious salt shaker that has no right to exist <shakes the empty salt shaker>
Why don’t they design proper salt shakers? What is a salt shaker if it doesn’t get refilled by itself? Why should I have to fill it up? Irritating things lying useless at home!
This headache is killing me. Why is the weather so bad? It’s hot, it’s windy, it’s undecided.
Like me. Should I pick up a job? If I pick a job, when will I write?
If I don’t pick a job, I won’t ever have money. I can’t ever go to Prague! <Cries>
Life is so sick.
Life is bad.
Life is sad.
The worst is even my flip flops broke yesterday. And now I need new flip flops <Cries more>
Why am I always sleep deprived? There is no way I can nap during the day. I’d better work. And oh, where’s the kid?
Wait, am I bloating? Is this my tummy on me? I didn’t have this big a tummy yesterday.
Evening:
Fresh air should help.
Fresh air. Fresh air. I need fresh air. <Goes out and sits at the park>
I don’t want ANYONE to come talk to me. No small talk and no big talk. No talks at all. <Wears the don’t-talk-to-me look>
I slug the kid back home.
This cauliflower is terrible. It’s full of wriggling worms. I hate my life. And these stupid cruciferous bozos. I don’t know what to cook for dinner tonight. Why do we need dinner? Can’t we detox one night?
I want to cry. <Cries>
Nobody needs me. Nobody loves me.
I feel sick.
Should I give up icecreams or should I give up….ummm…what can I give up? Why should I give up? Something or anything at all? I’m an individual with rights.
My mom never loved me. <Cries>
It’s fine. I grew up fine though. I don’t need anyone to love me.
Kid asks: ‘Mom, are you crying?’
Me: ‘No, I’m chopping onions.’ <hugs him and cries>
Kid laughs: ‘There are no onions. You are crying.’ <Mom cries louder>
Night:
‘If you don’t clean up your toys, I’ll never get you toys anymore,’ I holler.
‘But my toys are already in place,’ he argues.
‘Ok. Yes, I can see that. I am warning you for tomorrow.’
I see the kid walk to his bed silently. I cringe inside. Argh! Why am I so bad?
Chocolate comes to the rescue.
What they say about chocolate helping your mood swings is stinky bullshit.
What is that wretched feeling inside? I’m angry at everything! I want to cry and I want to talk. I also want to sit quietly and not talk to anyone.
I must meditate. <Tries to meditate for two and a half minutes>
When is it sleeptime for me? Maybe now.
I go to the kid’s bed and fit myself in. I put my arms across him and hold him tight. <dozes off>
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