I am biologically female. Which means aside from getting the privilege to wear dresses and makeup and having it be socially acceptable, I have to put up with something most biological females have to put up with. Periods. How fun is that?! (kill me)
With the menstrual cycle comes a crazy phenomenon called PMS – Pre Menstrual Syndrome. Given that PMS can last up to seven days of the menstrual cycle, I consider myself quite lucky in that mine only lasts 24hrs. But
fucking flipping hell heck. It’s a long, nasty, ruthless, depressing 24 hours. My brain will begin to make enemies of my friends, it will strip me of my motivation to do anything, it will turn me sassy and ruthless and mean. My already very limited amount of patience will start at zero. Every now and then I find my usually rational self removing myself from a perfectly normal situation to hide somewhere and cry over… well, nothing. It’s the bane of most women’s existence, and it makes us bat. shit. crazy.
The worst part of PMS however is not all of those things. It’s the inability to stop those things. It’s the complete lack of misunderstanding from everyone else, and it’s the embarrassing “Sorry, I’m PMSing” conversation you have to have with friends and coworkers when your fuse hits the dynamite and you explode for seemingly no reason. You become intrinsically aware of every fault your loved ones have because everything about them becomes infuriating. Otherwise rational women are turned in to hormonal monsters and there’s nothing we can do to stop it.
Sure, there are meditation tactics, and there are other women who are more than happy to empathise with you and swap monster stories, but at the end of the day there’s not a whole heap we can do to stop our surmounting insanity. I’m very fortunate that my female friends know my cycle (and have access to my cycle on an app we all use) and my male friends are super understanding if I preempt any interaction with “FYI, I’m PMSing, so I’ll probably be a cunt. I still love you though.” My coworkers are ridiculously supportive and understanding too. It helps that I’m pretty upfront about these things and open and honest about what’s shitting me to tears.
Speaking of shitting me to tears – People on public transport who sniff constantly. If you know you have a runny nose take a fucking tissue with you. It’s not that hard. You can buy cheap packets, or buy a box and take ten folded tissues out and keep them in your pocket or your bag. Stop sniffing and blow your goddamn nose. You’ll feel better, I’ll stop wanting to gag, and I won’t have to resist the overwhelming urge to hit you. It’s irritating. YOU ARE IRRITATING. I’m tired of handing out tissues and forcefully telling you to blow your nose. You’re a grown-ass adult who should be able to look after your own damn sniffles. #endrant
Stay Silly, kids. And peace be with all those women-folk who’re turned in to fricken psychopaths once a month. (Also, blessings upon all those who put up with us – you’re the real heroes).