Some people think this refers to when a woman is actually having her period — bleeding from the groin. Women know that it’s that period before — up to a week before in some cases — where the world becomes slightly skewed, emotions twisted, patience annihilated. Everyone knows to be afraid.
I have PMS today. Three days before the onset of bleeding. Not too bad. It doesn’t strike severely every month. But today… this evening in particular…
If I were a wiser woman I should curl up with a book (I’m reading Pope Joan by Donna Woolfolk Cross), put on some Enya and have an early night. But I haven’t had dinner yet and my ride is due in a few minutes. Poor guy. I hope I behave civilly. It’s his birthday tomorrow.
I haven’t found a lot that helps quell my irritation with the world when I’m like this. Or that’ll make me stop wanting to cry. It’s bizarre how a logical, sometimes rational person can be swayed by hormones I know nothing about. But swayed I am.
It might be better tomorrow, or it might last until Monday afternoon when the bleeding comes. It’s not all that pretty being a woman, no matter how much we cover it with lace and mascara and perfume. This ability and need to reproduce is a primal, animalistic thing. It’s not pretty.
“I am not a pretty girl. That is not what I do. I am no damsel in distress. I don’t need to be rescued. So put me down, punk. Wouldn’t you prefer a maiden fair? Isn’t there a kitten stuck up in a tree somewhere?” — Ani DiFranco