Tuesday, September 20, 2011

PMS Rambling.

As some of you may know, I don't usually half-ass things in the "Emotions" department.
I'm sensitive and passionate and not afraid to show it.
But once a month, that side of me multiplies by 10.
Here's how you know it's "that time."

A) I get highly irritated over small things.
For example, I was on the phone with a woman this morning and asked her name. 
First of all, when someone asks your name, do you only give your last name? Apparently, she does.
"Robertson. R-O-B-E-R-T-S-O-N."
Yes, lady, I know how to effing spell "Robertson," and I highly doubt you've somehow morphed into a One-Named person like "Cher" or "Prince," so give me your effing first name, stupid!
(Harsh name calling, I know. Don't blame me, blame the hormones.)
"Ma'am, can I please have your first name?"
She then proceeds to mumble something, without following up on how to spell it, that sounds like "Lydia."
So then I'm left there, frantically searching in my system for a "Lydia (Lidia?) Robertson" to no avail as she continues to explain her furniture problems to me.
I had to cut her off before she went too far.
"Can you please spell that for me, ma'am?"
She pauses as if she's shocked I would even ask that then responds with a slight irritation in her voice that leads me to believe she think's I'M the stupid one for not knowing how to spell her first name.
"Vivia. V-I-V-I-A. Vivia."
VIVIA?! What kind of crap name is that? And how does one think I need spelling for "ROBERTSON" and not "VIVIA"??
I had to bite my tongue and shake my head for a few moments before I could muster up my award winning acting skills and continue to make her day better.
(Do you see what I mean? Hormones, people!)

B) I get highly emotional over small things.
The other day, I was listening to Adele while at work. I found myself getting teary eyed and thinking, "My God, she has the voice of an angel. I could cry right here, right now just listening to this sweet, sweet melody. She sings with such passion, with her heart and soul poured into every lyric."
I quickly had to change the song and pull myself away from the edge of an emotional meltdown.
I somehow doubt my coworkers would understand me through my tears and babble when I say, "I'm fine, I'm fine, it's just Adele...she's so b-b-beautiful..."
(Except maybe The Vickster because she's cool like that.)

C) I somehow justify eating anything and everything.
I'd like to say I'm pretty strict with what I eat....about 25 days a month.
I watch what I eat, how much I eat, and plan my day accordingly.
But for those other days, without fail, this overwhelming urge to eat takes over and it can't be stopped.
Last weekend, a group of us went out Downtown and I looked at "V", with an intensity in my eye, and said,
"I need you to listen to me closely. In the next few hours, I know I'm going to say something along the lines of: 'I need (insert fast food) and I need it now!' But you must ignore my oh-so-persuasive ways and tell me 'NO.' Okay? I'm serious here. Do not let me eat (insert fast food)!!"
He stared at me with a slight look of "this lady has gone psycho on me" but kindly obliged.
Fast forward 2 hours and we've somehow managed to be sitting in the drive-thru for Carl's Jr.
As I'm about to lean out my window and order a spicy chicken sandwich, chili cheese fries, and a bean and cheese burrito, "V" quietly and gently said, "Are you sure you want to eat this? Didn't you say earli---"
I quickly cut him off with what I can only assume was a slight demonic look in my eyes and these three simple words, "I want it."
Something in my fierce words must have told him to close his mouth, sit back, and let me continue with my order.

Let me formally apologize to those who are on the receiving end of my crazy, PMS-ing ways. Just know, it's not the real me, it's the hormone enraged crazy person that comes around once a month; give it a few days, she'll be gone and the real, sweet, emotionally-stable, skinny version will be back.


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