PMS is awesome. What’s more fun than feeling bloated, tired, and cranky all at once for no reason? NOTHING.
Here’s what my PMS Monster would sound like if she could talk:
OMG how fucking sad is The Way We Were, you guys?
I should eat an entire sleeve of saltines (and a brownie).
Mustard is so good on cheese, AMIRITE?
This Folgers commercial is the effing saddest thing I have ever seen. Like ever.
WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?!
How did I get SO fat, SO fast?
I don’t care if you have 3 kids in your car, lady, I’ll flip the bird and mouth “fuck you” if you pull out in front of me, I AM LATE FOR WORK AND IT’S EVERYONE ELSE’S FAULT.
I should drink a bottle of wine and text my ex-boyfriend.
“Yeah hi, is this the hospital? I think I pulled a muscle in my right eye from rolling it with too much force.”
Cake for dinner? OK. CAKE FOR DINNER.
“Honestly, who fucking cares?” –internal thoughts to half the stuff anyone is saying to me when I’m in THE MOOD