Pass My Shotgun

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There’s one thing I hate more than standing in a long queue at the bank or dealing with bad drivers who reckon they own the road and drive like absolute eejits…and that is…PMS. Ah yes, PMS my old friend – you and I have traveled a long road together and will continue to do so until Menopause takes your place!

What a funny thing PMS is, don’t you think? That time of the month when anything anyone says (or doesn’t say…) may be held against them in your court of law. Nothing they say is right; everything they don’t say is wrong. You demand answers to questions that are just illogical; you cry during ad breaks that involve children (even if they’re just selling toilet paper) or animals (even if they’re just selling kitty litter); you fly off the handle if the dishes aren’t washed, and actually get upset because people were so inconsiderate as to actually even think it was ok to dirty the dishes in the first place!

PMS has baffled many individuals for centuries and it’s been the centre of a few jokes (to the detriment of those who find it funny) and for those of you who thought it stands for Premenstrual Syndrome, think again! It actually stands for Psychotic/Pissy Mood Syndrome or…on certain days…Potential Murder Suspect.

You’d think that after 14 years of dealing with PMS, I’d have a handle on it and be able to control it (though come on…who can ever control it!) – but alas, this is not always the case. Just last night GH was at the receiving end of a PMS-induced emotionally overloaded reaction to something that was rather normal and he had to endure almost an hour of sobbing, irrational statements, stupid questions and the inevitable “*sniff sniff* *sob* You just…*sniff* don’t *sniff* understand *sob*!” followed by the disgusting sound of me blowing all my sorrows into an already over-used tissue.

But here’s the thing – and how wonderful is this! – GH put up with it and actually loves me more for it! *KACHING* yes, I’ve hit the motherload! I’ve found that one man in a million gazillion….gabillionnnnn…who remains calm, lets me ramble on, adds comforting words here and there, and then responds by assuring me that – no matter how crazy I get during PMS – he still thinks I’m the most gorgeous girl in the world, and he loves me to bits. Yes, yes, do I hear an “aaaaaawwweeee sweeeeet!”.

Honestly – God couldn’t have blessed me with a better man!

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