I Am Pre-MSing…PMS-ing In Advance
What? You’ve never had PMS a week before it actually starts?? I’ve finally made the determination that once every few months, I don’t just suffer from PMS, I suffer from Pre-MS. It just makes the suffering, crabbiness and overall “leave me alone, I’m sensitive” stuff last just a bit longer. Perhaps I should say that it causes others to suffer just being around me.
I say things that make no sense, cry for no reason and I’m even more sarcastic than usual. Then there are periodic moments of sappiness, sweetness and other things that concern me. Overall, I think it’s a time of multiple personalities due to hormonal instability. That sounds so clinical. In simpler terms, a bout of Pre-MS is just me being nuts.
I feel it coming on this month. Just when I thought I’d be spared a two-week bout of “I have two heads and six yapping mouths”, it’s here. It all started with a migraine and jeans that didn’t seem to have the right size tag on them. I always blame the tag when I’m bloated.
Here’s what goes on during Pre-MS. Am I alone here????
I cry about everything. From stubbing my toe to not being able to find a matching sock, I cry. I think I really like to cry, quite honestly. It’s like stress relief and it makes everyone really, really uncomfortable. Then they leave and I get some alone time. Job done.
I want to pick a fight. With anyone. No, not a fist fight. Ha! I’d lose at that for sure. I can, however, win a verbal sparring hands down when I’m PRE-MSing. Come to think of it, I’m pretty good at word fights any time. Mostly I take my crankiness out on strangers. My favorite thing is to make comments in line at the grocery store when someone is using one of those NEXTEL phones with the walkie-talkie feature. I try to chime in on the conversation and tick the person off. They eventually move out of line and I am…NEXT!
I steal my son’s Clearasil. He uses it because he never wants to get a pimple (and doesn’t). I use it because one will flare up somewhere obvious and I try to eradicate it before anyone notices. How can I be 45 and get a pimple. Everyone says, “I can’t see it” but that makes me even more cranky. Like I want them to notice. I really need some sort of help.
I find the smallest crumbs on the floor. I need glasses to see most things but somehow when I’m PRE-MSing, I find the smallest thing to complain about. It’s like I get the vision of a superhero…much to the kids’ chagrin. “Sit up and over the table…I just saw a crumb hit the floor. Now we’ll probably get all sorts of bugs.” From one crumb. Get real, Blondie. Go take some Pamprin.
I buy lots of supplies. It’s like I’m getting ready for a year long period. I get nutty and go to Sam’s Club and stock up on tampons by the case. Then I get home and find I already have a case. I put them next to the case of chocolate I get and then head to the freezer to put away the 16 pack of Nutty Cones I’ll be breaking into shortly.
I ask questions and hate the answers. Wait, that’s not just during this “special” time. I’ve been told I frequently ask questions so I can complain about the honest answers I get. I ask for the truth and really don’t like it.
I double my Pepsi intake. I know, bad bad bad bad. Enough already. I don’t smoke and rarely drink. Let me have my Pepsi. It keeps me from using my umbrella as a weapon in public and it also keeps me awake. Not alert, but awake.
I steal the kids’ string cheese. This makes them really mad because I always take the last one. Then I tell them I’ll get more…and eat those, too. I’m such a child.
I want to be left alone. I tell everyone when I’m cranky that I’d just like to be left alone. Then they do it and I’m ticked off. I start crying, “Great, if YOU didn’t feel well, I’d be there for you.” “But you said you wanted to be alone!” “Don’t you know the difference between when I say I want to be alone and when I really mean it???”
Who can really win that argument with me? No one. I’m just fairly sure everyone is partying in a big way when all of these symptoms go away……….
Ah PMS, “can we talk?”. I have pain too, but that’s not a good greeting. So let me start again…
Hello,
It’s my first time to your blog. dcrBlogs said on Twitter that your looking of Eastcoast people. I’m from Rochester, NY. I am a lefty too, and spent some summer vacations at Cape Cod. Well, the rest is on my blog so pop on over if you like. ;o) Oh, and I’m adding you to my Twitter.
I love that image in the opening paragraph – did you create it??
You’ve just described my entire month of October…
Hello, I’m Deranged Princess and I’m a Pre-MSer… I’m so glad to hear there’s a name for it other than the “over-extended crazy cycle”
Very funny post, thanks for the laugh
Cheryl,
Go give back the damn string cheese and the Clearasil, will you?
Poor kids…
John
oh, crap…that’s called monday thru friday…and most saturdays and sundays…
Right there with ya girlfriend…in fact, my Pre-MS was just last wk. Imagine that? Wonder if all of us twittering and blogging will end up on the same schedule? Ha! Anyway loved your post! Thanks for the smile =)
I refer to my PMS as Pre., Present., and Post …. take your pick as to which one it is on any given day! Throw me some chocolate… It might tame me.
great post!
I understand totally! I pre-MS for 3 weeks, PMS for one, have a quickie period and start right up again. Hmmm maybe I’m just a bitch?
LOL! that was absolutely hilarious…i totally know what you mean!
Myspace? Myspace? OMG, too funny. What jocular erogenous kind of brand-naming is that? LOL Never seen that one on the shelves before, but then i don’t frequent some of the same aisles at the store as you (thank god for small miracles). Hey look at it this way. At least you haven’t developed Post PMS syndrome as well. Then you’d be at peak beeeatch mode THREE weeks out of the month!
Loved this post, as usual. Myspace. Tee hee.
Cheryl, buckle up and get ready for the ride! Peri-you know what is like having PMS for months straight. I feel your pain. Best to you, Cynthia
I’m like that ALL the time, what the hell is my excuse?!
Hrm… I seem to be suffering from Pre-MS… all the time. Maybe mine just runs 3 weeks out of the month, with the super bitchy time saved for that last “special” week. Which, by the way, was this week. That could explain why I asked my husband to move out last night. Or the fact that he ought to change his name to Mr. Summer’s Eve… take your pick.
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