So it’s THAT time of the month again. The time when my children avoid me, small animals take cover and the neighbors don’t come over for a chat. I don’t really know why that happens, because quite honestly, I feel like I just sail through the month with hardly a blip on the emotional map. Really, I’m not kidding. When it comes to emotions, I’m as steady as lighthouse facing a gale storm. I never have really been able to understand women who complain about “that time” of the month. I always thought they were referring to the time you had to pay bills, and well, yeah, I can understand that sending a person flat-faced into their mattress for a day or two, but other than that, what am I missing?
Now, having said that, I will say it is quite interesting that it appears as though all of my girlfriends, my relatives and some of my neighbors totally disagree with me. They tell me that they can set their clock by the personality schizophrenia that occurs when Aunt Flo pays me a visit. I find that hard to believe. I know myself better than anyone, and I just can’t believe that a few hormones can throw me such a curve that I take on the persona of a woman possessed. Nobody has ever been able to prove that I have levitated my body while spewing green gunk, twisted my head completely around, or taken the Lord’s name in vain, but boy, to hear them talk about it, you would swear I should be running a coven.
So, in the interest of complete accuracy and full disclosure, I decided to put their accusations to the test. I was going to monitor emotions, cravings, and personality changes during five days in August, and then “crunch the numbers” so to speak to see what results were produced. I knew it was just a matter of me setting the record straight, but you know, there are just such haters in the world…it’s a real buzz kill.
Day one came and went without a single incident to record. I started the day with a handful of chocolate Hershey kisses and a Red Bull. I remember crying while I was styling my hair but that was only because the new hairbrush was being brutal to my roots. And I’m here to tell you nothing covers a pimple anymore…well, unless you buy it at the Clinique counter and pay $100 for it! What a scam. I need to remember to write a letter to the editor about that. That just ticks me off.
Day two…same thing. Nothing to report. Mitch asked me for some money to get a donut and cappuccino before his first class. I felt it was necessary to explain to him about the national debt in relation to his mother’s debt and how not getting a job as a teenager is a precursor to complete failure as an adult. He went out the door nearly crying. Truth hurts, and I remember telling him to buck up and put his big boy panties on. I’m not a total wet blanket though, and I remember hitting him in the back of the head with a few quarters. It’s his own fault if he doesn’t pick them up and do something fiscally responsible with them.
Day three. I don’t remember anything about day three. Oh, yeah, I slept through day three. I was in a food coma.
Day four. Well, ok, there was a little incident with road rage on day four. I have to say in my defense however, that I was a bit testy but only because I’m sick and dang tired of these designers who make jeans for women who apparently are not suppose to possess hips and I am going on record today as saying that zippers are a hand tool of the Devil.
Day five. I went to dinner with my two sons and we had a great time. I thought it was a bit rude of the waiter to charge me for the fourth basket of tortilla chips though. Come on, dude. What part of complimentary don’t you understand? What’s next…you gonna charge me for the ambience? Which by the way, Poncho, wasn’t all that great because even though I know you find this hard to believe, I am not a big fan of soccer…on big screens…in every corner of the restaurant. If you are going to invest some money on the ambience, you might consider getting a Merry Maid to dust those giant Sombrero’s on the wall every now and then! Geez. Talk about missing the obvious.
Day six. The last day of this obviously, unnecessary experiment. I have come to the conclusion in taking a cursory look back at my journal notes (which isn’t too hard to do if you wipe off the salsa, chocolate and Midol stains in the middle of a few pages) that my friends, relatives and neighbors are pretty clueless. I was Steady Eddy. I was unshakable in the storm. My moods were the same on day one as they were on day five. I was not able to see any discernable evidence that my personality shifted into witch-drive during certain times of the month. If you don't believe me, come on over..I'll take you on.
So in conclusion, I guess I'm lucky to be of such genial mood and comportment during THAT time of the month. I've learned through this experiment, that I'm not at all how my peeps portray me. I did find out however, that my powers of observation are more keen during this time of the month. For instance, I observed that our town picked the ugliest color for the city water tower, AGAIN, even half-naked Bristol Palin still isn't a dancer, and I'm going to neuter that dog next door with my own hands if he howls at the moon one more time! But you know what, that's not being an “itch-with-a-b,” that just astute observation...I’m just sayin’…
No comments:
Post a Comment