Thoughts I’ve Had While Suffering From PMS

And suffering it is.

Here’s the deal. PMS is shit. Thoroughly shit. It turns emotionally stable, kind, relatively calm and jolly females (ahem) into THE most emotionally unstable person on the planet, I-mean-is-that-even-human?

Just incase anybody needs reminding, PMS, pre-menstrual syndrome, is the name given to the physical, psychological and behavioural symptoms that occur in the days, or even weeks before a woman’s monthly period. I’m not using it as an excuse to scowl at you. I did not deliberately weep into your Cornflakes. IT IS a thing: an actual syndrome, thank you very much, you’re welcome. As if shedding blood from our very wombs for 5 days wasn’t enough of an unpleasant experience, we’re dragged headfirst through a cauldron of hot, chaotic emotions beforehand. Urban Dictionary defines it as ‘a powerful spell that women are put under, which gives them the strength of an ox, the stability of a Window’s OS, and the scream of a banshee.’ Yup. We can go with that.

I’m so in tune with my cycle these days that I can actually warn those I love of the exact dates I’m going to be a mega asshole, which is a fantastic idea until the PMS actually strikes, because…’OH-em-gee, I just NEED to be loved. Why is everyone ignoring me? Is it me? Oh gosh, I’m such a terrible human, sob, I can’t believe that Bambi’s mum died.

Here are some legitimate thoughts I’ve had when suffering from PMS.

I AM SO TIRED. Fuck, is it really 7am? I swear I’ve only been asleep for 20 minutes. Oh gosh, I really can’t be bothered to go to work today. I need to sleep for another million hours. Can I hibernate until Christmas?

It’s not all bad, if I get up I can have some toast! And some eggs. And some bacon. And some sausages. And more toast. And beans. And mushrooms. And more toast. And loads of ketchup. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry in my entire life. Ooooh, it tastes soooo good! It tastes even better when I shove it all in with my hands at 70mph.

I am so hideous. Just look at me! I’m so spotty and washed out and fat and OH-MY-GOSH, I really don’t want to go out in public today because I will probably be mistaken for a truck or some kind of wild beast and I will scare all of the children and I will be sacked for being so gross. Hopefully this smock top and baggy leggings will keep me well hidden from society.

*Involuntary crying episode in toilet*

My boobs look GREAT though. So swollen. So sexy. I wish they looked like this all the time.

Fucking boobs. They’re about 12 stone each right now. I can’t deal with this shit.

Why did my colleague just look at me like at? Oh gosh, they think I’m a wild beast. THEY HATE ME. I’m so rubbish at my job. I’m just useless and everybody knows it. I’ve let everyone down. I’ve let myself down.

*Involuntary crying episode in toilet*

I haven’t heard from Boyfriend. Sometimes I swear he just doesn’t understand me at all. Why hasn’t he bothered talking to me today? Wait… Oh gosh…he’s fallen out of love with me. I’m going to be so sad if we break up. What if he actually doesn’t want to be with me anymore?

Oh, there he is. Oh he’s soooooo lovely. I love him soooooo much and I’m just feeling all of the feels and he’s just so handsome. I’m the luckiest person ever to have met him. I hope he comes over for a cuddle later.

Right, he’s ‘busy’ later. Is he actually serious? He’s SO insensitive.

*Involuntary crying episode in toilet*

I’m okay again. I think I’ll take a selfie. Rediscovering my self worth via Instagram likes always helps. I don’t even look that terrible if I use this filter!

Time for a healthy lunch! They say that eating healthily can ease the symptoms of PMS. I’m going to take control of this. Spinach and sweet potato, I’m coming for you.

Did somebody say pizza? I can’t say no. I totally need this pizza. I LOVE pizza. Pizza will make everything better. Pizza for Prime Minister. I might have a couple of biscuits too.

Fucking pizza. I’m so fat. Why can’t I stop eating? Well, I’ve started now. I may as well just have another biscuit.

I have literally done no work today. I cannot concentrate. Breeeeeeathe. Focus. Okay, I’ve got this deadline tomorrow. I’m not going to mess this up.


*Involuntary crying episode in toilet*

I think I’m going to go for a run. I could really use some exercise after all of the food I’ve demolished today!

So I was getting changed a minute ago. And now I’m half naked in bed with the curtains shut. Maybe I’ll run tomorrow instead. I’m so sleepy. Sleeping is my favourite thing in all of the world.

I might just check Instagram first. Oh. Nobody liked my selfie. That’s because I’m just so bloody hideous. Oh gosh. Why can’t I be Emma Stone?

*Involuntary crying episode in toilet*

I have complained ALL day. And now I’m complaining about complaining. I am the most annoying person ever. I hate myself. How do I even have any friends? Seriously, what? I think I need to do everyone a favour and lock myself away forever.

YAY! BOYFRIEND IS COMING OVER FOR A CUDDLE! Cuddles are my favourite thing in all of the world. Isn’t it just amazing to be alive?

Except it isn’t. Everything thing is horrible and shit and I AM JUST SO SAAAAD and ugly and fat and stupid and horrible and hopeless.

*Involuntary crying episode into Boyfriend’s armpit*

I’m so hungry. And sleepy. It’s 2am. I CAN’T SLEEP. I want sausage rolls. I love sausage rolls. Sausage rolls for Prime Minister.

I’ve shared these so that we can weep and chuckle at the sheer bonkerism of the entire spectacle, so that you know you’re not alone in your temporary insanity, and so that everybody who doubts the system gains insight into just how fucked up I really am during the first week of every month. All hail the vaginaship, and the wonderful, weepy, and woeful kingdom it brings. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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