Monday, March 06, 2006
PMS
It starts out as a craving. Pulling the old "sneak attack" on my vitals, making my hormones jump around like club kids dancing to some techno beat. My daily focus of constructive productivity slowly fades into destructive reproducing activities. All I want to do is experience a release so far out of this world that I think of every way possible of doing so. Should I call so-and-so? Should I stop by the store and get batteries for my "BOB?"
Sometime between plotting a trip to the toy store and calling Mr. So-and-so, a heat wave will roll through my hair follicles all the way down to the soles of my heels. I feel it the most in my upper body. Wiping sweat from my chest and brow is no laughing matter, especially in twenty below temperatures. I'll wrinkle my face to form a frown and say something aloud like "I'm too young for this menopausal-like shit!" It's then when I feel the slightest contraction coming from my abdomen and my frown turns into a sullen stare followed by a moan.
Sure, I'll ease the sensation with a cup of hot herbal tea or a couple of pills, but more than likely I'll stick with the old fashion remedy...chocolate. It'll work for a while, until my body decides something without my consent. I'm incline to believe that my brain is left out on certain decisions. I believe all of my reproductive organs have their own country, with their own brain of operations and their own union or congress. So, when my uterus decides it's tired of its current location, my reproductive organs conspire to shift it elsewhere. That's where the fun begins. Contraction after contraction, I become a pill popping queen. Anything to put an ax to the "move."
In the midst of the uterus wars, my body gradually becomes a bit sore and tender, but no area becomes as sensitive as the buxom. A bra during this time is considered a foe. Hands, lips, eyes...anything trying to get near that area is immediately denied access. How I wish I could put a "Do Not Disturb" sign on them, because the slightest touch can cause an uncomfortable situation for me. That means more pills...errrrr ummm.... chocolate.
Physically as my body morphs into this "walking-sauna-with-shifting-parts-and-not-so-sturdy-nobs," emotionally I am a wreck. Actually, that's the grand finale of it all. The hypersensitivity, aloofness, giddy one moment and visibly upset the next is enough to label me Sybil (yanno the chic with the 16 different personalities) and ship me off to a psych ward.
I try to stay to myself during these times so that feeling are spared, but people just don't want to take the hint. True, people roam this earth 24/7 so there is nowhere to run or hide. However, when you see me in a corner to myself all I ask is that you stick a mirror under my nose to make sure I'm breathing. When you see a fog let me be and walk on by. Don't ask me nothing. If I want something then I'll ask or attempt to get it myself.
I'll be fine once this time period passes by. The good thing is, because my body is acting as if it's living on the planet Saturn and I've never been a regular chic (cycles have always been off balance), this only occurs once every blue moon. However, as I have noticed in the past few years, that when this happens it's forceful. Maybe it's Mother Nature's way of being vengeful for what Saturn did to me and my reproductive organs, but why am I being caught in the crossfire?
So, in writing this...all I ask is that you bare with me for the next few days. It's going to be a bumpy ride.
Posted by KomplexPhemale ::
10:00 PM ::
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
---------------oOo---------------