Thursday, February 22, 2007

Pretty Much Sucks (PMS)

i really hate that humans with two "x" chromosomes use this monthly event to justify being in a bad mood/needy/weepy and subsequent chocolate fests. i believe that this is just an excuse used to rationalize the emotions and behaviors which in actuality, ask anyone with an x and y chromosome, occur every single day of the month. we have ovaries, duh.

however, it pains me to admit that normal life (although i think daily life during a full moon is noticeably more challenging) can go on, but we are more sensitive in responding or more easily overwhelmed. apparently this is a trend consistent with birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, valentines etc, irrespective of what your ovaries are pumping out.

i knew it wasn't going to go well when i got up on monday (ha! monday) and the string on my cute, capri style old navy pj bottoms snapped. i was waddling around like a 15 year old boy trying to keep them from dropping down to my knees. shortly thereafter (and a healthy serving of coffee), i discovered there was no toilet paper. shit! literally. an hour later i received a message from the therapist who was covering my boss's groups that day; she was out sick. the 'diagnosis du jour' included excessive symptoms of "needy" and "whiney" (mine too by 5 o'clock), good thing i have an endless surplus of patience. i was told to my face, to manipulate my co-worker, had an asian woman disrupt my group with a curious display of stamping and swearing. by the end of the day it was time to "utilize my coping strategy", a 45 minute loop around balboa park. my ipod battery died before it even got through cyndi lauper "driving all night", it was cold, i was under-dressed and now had to listen to my own laboured breathing. grrr. the trend continued throughout the week, where dreams of pjs (with unbroken strings), cups of sweet, milky tea and trader joe's chocolate chip cookie dough were foremost. not even dodgeball, typically my "prozac" elevated my mood. new and enthuthiastic girls who do not understand the tactics of playing like repressed women, whereby if the ball comes near you, don't pick it up, the guys who are stronger should be throwing, especially when the double x chromosomes throw like girls, and bloody throw them too high so they get caught out anyway.

sweet relief, friday is here. i have 'boot camp on the beach', which while not exactly fun, and kind of painful, the combination of sun/sand/water exposure and endorphins followed by rest of my burrito should chase away the remainder of my grumpies.

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