PMS is a real thing. The dictionary says so.
Pre-Menstrual Syndrome (PMS) noun
1) A truly debilitating affliction occurring directly before a female’s period in which she is allowed to do whatever the hell she wants because everything is terrible.
Okay, the dictionary doesn’t say that, it says this:
But I do and anyone that says otherwise I will swiftly jab in the throat because my hormones told me to
I read an article recently about this woman who straight up stabbed her husband to death when he pissed her off, and was found not guilty because she was PMSing. This means as a woman, I can kill another human in a hormonal rage and walk away scot-free one week out of every month. Don’t fuck with me.
For those of you who want to avoid being viciously slaughtered by a female acquaintance I have some thinly veiled threats presented as “suggestions. It is important that readers understand that if some of these supposed suggestions are not abided by life could potentially be in danger.
But you know, whatever.
First rule of PMS is do not under any circumstance ask if this is the case. In the words of every WASPy grandmother ever, we don’t talk about it, we ignore it and try our best to get through it. If I have learned anything from Gossip Girl it is that this strategy never ever works, hidden and ignored dirt always comes out when an anonymous stalker texts everyone you know and don’t know details of your life. But it is still the way we do things.
Though an effective way of gauging whether or not a woman is PMSing based on the response, I am positive it is not worth it to ask if this is the case. This conversation can only go one of two ways:
“Uh-oh, is someone PMS-ing?”
option one: “Excuse me? I can be in a bad mood, people are allowed to do this. It doesn’t have to be about my period”
option two: “Excuse me? I can be in a bad mood, people are allowed to do this. MAYBE if you cleaned the kitchen after you made your fucking food so I wouldn’t have to clean it up like EVERYTHING else. God damnit I just stubbed my toe on your stupid backpack! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST PUT IT IN THE CLOSET LIKE I ASKED AND WHY WONT THIS DRESS ZIP UP I AM ALREADY FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE TO MEET SALLY..” then the crying commences, and six plates are broken against the wall while the cat hides scared under the bed for three days.
You get the picture. Sometimes it is best to simply speculate inwardly and secretly keep a spread sheet calendar. When in doubt, just assume Operation Red is in place and hide all the sharp objects. (Including pens, has anyone ever thought about how easy it would be to stab someone with a pen? Should pens even be allowed on airplanes? If I were a terrorist I would go the pen route..Just a quick little jab into the jugular.. )
ANYWHO the nice thing about preparing your body for bleeding profusely from your vagina for days is that you seriously get to do whatever you want and have justification for it. Acknowledgement of the situation is the first step. The next week is going to be hell for you and those around you—everyone should accept this and move on accordingly.
I have found three really helpful, and mostly cliché things, that serve to placate the pre-menstrual monster that I transform into.
2) Peanut butter
3) Chocolate peanut butter
Aside from that there is always the Declaration of Woman’s Rights–the amended version printed below. Take three Advil, plug in your heating pad, and read on.
Eat that cookie, eat twelve. Calories don’t count during this time. If you are offered a free cupcake at Smith’s take one! Or if you are me take one, eat all the frosting off the top, eat all the frosting off your friend’s cupcake, throw away the cake and go back for one more. Sugar=emotional support.
Eat an equal amount of kale. Iron is your friend!
Go ahead and scream at that annoying little kid. I don’t believe in accidents, the ball hit you in the head and that kid can kindly screw off. You are no longer yourself as you generally are in the respect that your emotions LITERALLY take over your soul.
Watch all the romantic comedies and dramas your heart desires—this is why this genre exists. Be warned, however..P.S. I Love You is the emotional equivalent of Russian Roulette in that you may kill yourself.
Same goes for jeggings—fashion rules are temporarily nullified during this time. Even Vogue says so. Anything stretchy is preferable, because you will fit into them no matter what and there is something incredibly satisfying about that.
Cover up all mirrors. You are retaining water, it’s temporary. You are not going to be cute this week, you will live.
Avoid discussing any potentially upsetting topics. They will be there to discuss next week, try to create a happy space of rainbows and peace. ( I can, have, and WILL cry at the table while out at dinner with friends if my landlord texts to tell me I cleaned the house I just moved out of poorly. If only I had been told three days later I could have handled it like an adult.)
Not to go all Red Tent on you guys, but sometimes hibernation is the way to go. It is best for all my friendships if I mysteriously disappear for a few days so that I don’t end up forcing myself to go out and crying at the Distillery.
Really though, it all comes down to how much chocolate you can bring me. Or peanut butter. Or chocolate peanut butter. How much I like you is directly proportional to your success in this act.