Entry FeedBefore I became a mother, I had PMS... but just the bitchy and bloating part, nothing else. My Husband, even before he was my husband, would dismiss bad moods and arguments as PMS, something I adamantly denied even when a few days latter TOM arrived.
Somehow, with nursing and pregnancy, I managed to have about 6 periods in 6 years. Dr. said my cervical cells were starting to look menopausal. The good news was no period, no PMS. Ha ha - Husband - the bitchiness all those years really was because you pissed me off!
Now, post child birthing, I have true PMS, but I still seem to be in denial. Do you actually get worst PMS after having children? Is this another terrible thing that happens that your OB GYN won't mention for fear child we stop reproducing?
PMS is fun. For three days I eat EVERYTHING that I touch and fits into my mouth. My breasts get bloated and really tender. My jeans don't fit. I am tired.
On the best of days I don't suffer fools gladly. But just before my period, I can't stand anyone. Really. And I take everything as a personal insult (like buddy on the subway yesterday. Yes, I was going to sit there! Just because you are 90 or so and have a cane doesn't make you special, you know!)
I find right before my period, all of my friends start conspiring against me. Suddenly my phone doesn't ring and I don't get any emails... PMS can be so lonely! More chocolate? I am almost through all three of the Easter baskets! I find that during PMS I don't really like anyone, and the feeling seems to be mutual.
I shouldn't make decisions during PMS, but here I am going to get my hair cut today... Dangerous!
Husband doesn't bother asking if it is PMS anymore. He just knows. And he is a little bit scared, I think.
Are there any drugs to combat PMS? I think I have two solutions... One is pregnancy, but that brings on a whole host of other problems. Another... I am setting up a red tent in the backyard... Did you read that book? Only other PMSing women are invited to join me.
Bring your own kleenex. And chocolate.