Pickle Dreams

Every month or so, when I have a little check-in with my naturopath, one of the questions she asks me is, “how was your PMS this month?” And I hem and haw and mutter things about pizza and moodiness and….  I haven’t really known what I’m talking about. I’ve not been adept at noting and remembering what’s happening below my head, which is where I like to spend my time.

But since I’ve been asked this question about three dozen times now, I think I’m finally figuring it out. So here, ladies and gentlemen, they are: my PMS symptoms, which will henceforth be known as THE ISSUES. (I know, you’ve been waiting for a looooong time.)

There are two distinct phases to THE ISSUE: 1) Apathy and Lethargy, and 2) Irritability and Hunger. I’m currently in phase two.

Phase One: Apathy and Lethargy

This phase always starts first thing in the morning, and it’s generally on a weekday. I wake up, stare at the ceiling, and think, “Am I sick? I must be sick. I can’t possibly be not sick.” Then I test out coughing, feel my glands, ponder possible nausea or stomach disorders, swallow test for soreness, and sigh. I’m never sick, at least not physically. But I am completely without the will to move. I don’t want to get up, I don’t want to roll over, and I definitely DO NOT want to go to work. So, sometimes I don’t. And then I go back to sleep, and when I wake up at 11:30 or noon, I’m gripped with guilt for not being at work (I don’t think that last part has anything to do with the PMS).

And if I do go to work, I’m certainly no Princess Productive, if you know what I mean. Which also involves guilt. Luckily, phase one only lasts about 24 hours.

Phase Two: Irritability and Hunger

The longer of the two phases, this can last for anywhere from two to FIVE days. And it’s serious. Today, I went on a tirade about the way the dishwasher was loaded at work. The dishwasher, people. Who the hell cares?

This is exactly how I feel and exactly how many hotdogs I want to eat. Poo.

Well clearly, I do. At least during phase two. For awhile, there was a terror threat-o-meter outside my office door that would change based on an intern’s outfit (a post for a different day). I’m seriously considering putting it back up, but this time for me. That way, if a co-worker wants to ask me a question, they can do so at their own risk, knowing that the filter that makes me at least a skosh diplomatic is not functioning properly, and they’re likely to get an EXTREMELY “HONEST” answer (that’s the way I like to think of it).

And along with the crabbiness is the h.u.n.g.e.r. I really don’t like to talk about it, because I’d rather be using my mouth to chew.

Pizza, hot dogs, cookies, sandwiches…. excuse me, I need to go have a snack.

Okay, better. Of course, this phase comes with it’s own guilt. Again, a post for a different day.

Anyway, it’s a freakin’ relief when my period finally starts, and I can be pleasant and energetic and moderate again. I know that many women don’t like “Aunt Flo,” but she’s one of my favorite relatives. May she arrive soon.