This is how it always starts for me.
I’m exhausted and more than a little bit irritable. Don’t even look at me the wrong way or I’m going to jump down your throat. I’m achy. I do erratic things like convince myself that I absolutely need a new bra for my brother’s wedding and what I have will just not do. I spend an entire lunch hour plus 15 minutes trying on no less than 75 bras and do not buy anything, convinced that all undergarments are made for people who did not breast feed 2 children, and is it too much to ask to have some attractive cleavage in this very revealing dress rather than 2 smashed pancakes? I eat something extremely crazy for dinner, like 3 handfuls of garlic pumpernickel croutons and 2 English muffins with butter and jelly. I massacre one of the English muffins and put it back in the bag for someone else to eat. I dream overnight that I’m holding a pregnancy test with 2 lines on it, but how are there 2 lines when I’m just holding it and never peed on it? I nearly throw up in the morning when FIL empties a container of macaroni salad with tuna in to the garbage and the entire house (as far as I’m concerned anyway) smells like rotten fish. I gag uncontrollably and rush the kids out the door telling them that if I don’t get out of the house now I’ll puke. This is all very dramatic, punctuated with over the top gagging gestures.
I’ve calmed down now, and no, I’m not pregnant. This is PMS for me. Exciting, huh? And for whatever reason, and even though I know, every single month I wonder “could I be pregnant?”. Would I even want to be pregnant if I were? Then another bought of freaking out ensues and I’m a lunatic again.
….and I have such a craving for chicken wings right now
This will all resolve itself this weekend with the arrival of AF early next week. It always does.
But isn’t the rollercoaster a fun ride?