Consider this part one in the “Let’s have an uncomfortable public talk about the female body” series.
PMS bloating is not like regular bloating. It’s not like when you drink too much or eat too much. It’s not the same as when you have had way too much Taco Bell and your stomach feels like you’ve pumped it full of air and you will not feel better until you get into fart position and let it all out. No, not like that at all.
And this is not a gradual bloat. It’s not something that sneaks up on you little by little so y ou can feel your pants getting tighter and tighter and you adjust your belt and adjust your ensuing wedgie as the day goes on.
PMS bloat is sudden. You’ll just be sitting in your car, drumming along to some cool new song, waiting for the light to change to green and then suddenly, WHOOMF. You’ve gone from comfortable to busting out of your clothes in about two seconds. Suddenly, your waistband is digging into your stomach and your breasts are about to cause your bra to explode. While that may sound like a good thing to some of you, rest assured, it is not. Bloated boobs may sound like an amusing thing to touch but I am here to tell you that if you try to grab those swollen, tender breasts you will experience a smackdown unlike no other.
Once the bloat comes, you know everything else is not far behind. Your hair that looked so awesome this morning now makes Don King proud. A zit may appear. Perhaps two. And your formerly delightful demeanor has now turned to one of a rabid dog looking for his next meal. Your feet are swelling up, your pants are getting tighter and the only thing you want to do at that moment is go home, get naked and crawl into bed for four days.
Unfortunately, you have to continue on with your work day. So you tell yourself you will be cool, you will be calm, you will not take the breast tenderness out on your coworkers, you will recognize that you are not FAT, you are BLOATED and your significant other is not going to leave you because you are dumpy and ugly, it’s just the PMS talking. You will smile. You will not eat your coworkers for dinner. There are only two hours left in the day. You look better than you feel. You know this. You will not let the bloat monster wear you down. You sit at your desk, smiling and confident despite the fact that you just popped a button on your pants.
And then you get an email from someone two cubicles over.
“U don’t look so great today. R U OK???”
Ok, this is like one of those choose your own adventure books.
If you decide to strangle your co-worker until she is begging for her life and you don’t let go until she apologizes for using U and R instead of real words, turn to page 42…..
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Shall we call the whaaaambulance?
Too, big. too small. Do you really think we care?
(Ewww, don’t touch me, I’m sensitive)
Save it and take off your shirt, already.
Al, you disappoint me. You forgot to say “Take a Midol.”
Al, you disappoint me. You forgot to say “Take a Midol.”
Damn, I am slipping.
Do they still make Quaaludes? I’m thinking Midol ain’t gonna get it.
You are *so* gonna hate me.
I’m here with my girl. I call her that because she lets me. This old bat is no girl.
She says, “She’s lucky to even have a period. What is she, like forty-five? She could get pregnant. That would suck.”
I’m just trying to make you feel better. Is it working?
Al, tell her
A) the baby making machine was shut down in 1998.
B) I have started menopause
C) She should punch you
She has #3 covered. And, it doesn’t look like I’m getting fed. Or sleeping. Ever again.
Women suck… unless you want them to. Then they don’t.
What about the part warning people that the only way to remain safe around a woman with PMS is by throwing potato chips and chocolate at her. Or, preferably, chocolate-covered potato chips.
and pot. lots of pot. Seriously on the days I come home with a big bag of weed glued to my face my husband leaves me the fuck alone until the bag is gone (about two hours. Give or take a chocolate cake or two). I do envy those with predictable PMS symptoms. One month I can sleep for two weeks, the next I will have your head on a platter…