Wednesday, December 15, 2010
P M freaking S
PMS. Premenstrual Syndrome. Enough said, right? Roseanne Connor depicts the perfect portrayal of PMS. This is one of my favorite episodes. You can view part 2 here: PMS part 2. If you have five more minutes, check it out. Part 2 has some of the funniest stuff. If you need to see how it ends that link is here:PMS part 3. It's really hillarious. Especially if you have PMS. One of you reading has to be PMS'ing.
Dan Connor plays the perfect terrified husband. I can only imagine how my poor husband feels every month when my PMS kicks in. I'm sure he carefully considers every word that he speaks. He probably stays out of my way as much as he can. It's quite possible he tells the kids to do the same, without spelling out mommy's problem. I wonder if when my kids get older they will fall out of the chair like DJ did in terror of the PMS. Ha.
I hate PMS. I hate feeling like a raging lunatic every month. I'm not one to pay attention to my cycle on the calendar. I don't know my period is coming until I get it. (or don't get it!) So, I get my period, Aunt Flow, my best friend, mother nature visits, whatever you want to call it. Then, I think about the day before I got it. I immediately feel bad for my family and anyone else I may have come in contact with. Poor things. God only knows what I said to them. My husband knows when my period is coming. God forbid he tells me because I'll freak out on him. There is another comedy, Everybody Loves Raymond, that deals with PMS. The husband, Raymond, tells his wife to take a pill. She asks if he thinks it will cure a word that rhymes with itchy. It doesn't.
It's probably better that our husbands see it coming before we do. They can hide. They can watch their words. They can forgive us because they know the evil coming out of us, isn't really us.
PMS. We are at the mercy of the crazy hormones. There's nothing we can do. Midol doesn't help it. Chocolate does. Then we gain five pounds because of the chocolate. Ugh.
Yesterday, I had PMS. Yesterday, I was Roseanne Connor. I was happy one minute. I wanted to attack my husband and scream at my kids the next. Then I wanted to express my undying love to Joe and have a dance party with the kids. I cleaned the house. Then freaked out because the house got dirty. I was a lunatic. I wonder if strangers can spot a PMS'ing crazy woman? Maybe they can see the crazy in our eyes.
Thank goodness we have at least 28 days before the psycho comes out again. Stupid PMS. I am now going to get a heating pad and eat Christmas cookies until I puke. Thanks, Aunt Flo.