I become a stereotype when PMSing

I like to believe I am an adorable, unique, precious, unusual unicorn. There is no one like me, the world would forever duller should I disappear. I fart rainbows and fairies dance along side me singing joyful hymns.

Obvi.

Unfortunately, I’ve recently acknowledged that occasionally, I exhibit some fairly stereotypical behaviour. And by occasionally, I mean on a monthly basis when PMSing. During the week preceeding the evacuation of all of my body’s red blood cells, I become a caricature of a hormonal woman.

Case in point:

Saturday

I was chatting at the gym with a girl who is also single about our hopes and dreams and dating struggles and inevitable cat-less cat-lady destiny. As the conversation progressed, we both became a little emotional – a tad sad. So, we went next door for ice cream, which we scarfed down as we pondered why our lives had passed us by.

I am not making this up. But wait, it gets worse.

I decided to walk home, despite the cloudy skies and occasional drizzle. The weather matched my mood… and so did my playlist. Blank Space, by Taylor Swift – on repeat. Mumford & Sons. Francis Cabrel (for all you non-French speakers, this song is possibly the cheesiest most romantic song EVER. Translated lyrics are here.)

I walked slowly, uncaring of the rain drops on my face. I may have even been so overwhelmed with sadness that I cried as I walked. Luckily nobody witnessed that.

Sunday

Back at the gym. I’d lost a total of 6lbs of water retention since landing in Montreal on Friday night (I bloat like crazy when I travel). You’d think that would make me feel good, right? WRONG. I felt bloated, and icky. My ovaries were beating their way out of my body. I was fat. No, I was FAT. EVERYBODY STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FEEL BETTER, CAN’T YOU SEE I AM FAT?!?!?

In the silence that followed my empassioned plea, I started to giggle. Then I started to cry. Weepy-giggles.

I refuse to write how much chocolate I ate that night.

Monday

The list of fighters participating in the boxing tournament this weekend was finally published online. I immediately stalked the girl I’ll be fighting online, relieved to find myself prettier than her. Because that will definitely help me when I fight her, right? Right.


I seriously hope my symptoms subside quickly. I can’t handle my absence of originality much longer.

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7 comments

  1. Yup, I AM FAT AND UGLY is me once a month as well, even the months when I am seriously not bloated at all, or barely and where my hair only becomes mildly independent. Because nope, making me feel fat and ugly is not enough, my hormones also have to turn my hair into a limp, kinky, unmanageable mess. Screw you hormones, screw you…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. “I immediately stalked the girl I’ll be fighting online, relieved to find myself prettier than her. Because that will definitely help me when I fight her, right? Right.”

    I love this so hard.

    Like

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