~Temporary Man Syndrome~

I have recently decided that I do not suffer from PMS. I suffer from TMS--temporary man syndrome. For four days of the month I am pissed off. If you were to ask me what I was pissed off about a good answer would be, "yes."

My beloved discovered this trait many years ago and during these four days he says things such as, "You are going to have to forgive me, but I turn into an idiot every twenty-eight days." And it's true. He does.

I have just recently transitioned from TMS to the next stage in which I am weepy and ever so sorry that I was such an asshole last week. I carry my bloated body around and think that I could be a little nicer. I could share my stuff and furthermore, if I wasn't such a crappy mother my kids would eat a hot breakfast with some sort of breakfast meat every morning. It is usually shortly after I cry because of the lack of breakfast meat in the lives of my children that I also begin to wonder if I have ever made a good decision in my life.

Let me tell you what, for two days of every month I want to hug a bottle of whine, listen to Norah Jones and write apology letters to every person I have ever had a social interaction with, but I don't do that because I am lazy. Somewhere in the midst of the pity party I develop a migraine AND I get diarrhea and nausea. I am never really sure if the migraine and nausea are psychosomatic symptoms cleverly devised by my body so that I can declare I am sick and I must sleep all day long.

This means that in the midst of feeling sorry for myself and feeling crappy, I also begin to wonder if I am making myself ill because I am actually a very crazy woman who should be institutionalized.

Preferably in an institute that has daily massages and nap time.

So! I am currently rotating through the, "I suck and I am sick and tired and probably crazy" phase of my life just before finals.

Which is typical, I mean-why would they schedule finals for another week, like say the five days of the month when my pants fit, my skin looks good, my hairy is a glossy mane and my sex life is hitting on all eight cylinders?

The upside is that finals make me sick anyway--no matter which way the hormones are blowing. I look back over blogs from years passed and I see that finals happened, and I was sick. I am like a spiritual healer that can heal based on the feeling of the spirit, except I am nothing like a spiritual healer. I can, however, make myself physically ill with the slightest bit of academic pressure.

What I am is a woman. And the whole hormone cycle is enough of a good thing already. I am looking forward to menopause, when I can have TMS all year long.