My PMS has been out of control recently. It’s funny that I’m writing this post. For a very long time I thought PMS was yet a another naturally occurring condition that was used to control women through propaganda. I am a skeptic when it comes to treating certain conditions that are thought to afflict women. Things such as menopause, PMS, heavy periods, and even childbirth don’t necessarily need treatment. I do acknowledge that there are times when treatment is necessary but I, more often than not, choose to trust my body. Enough of my feminist rant before I further go into the medicalization of being a woman argument.
PMS is real, and can be extreme. While I am not one to blame PMS just because it’s my God-given right as a woman to do so, at times there is no other explanation. The last few months have been bad but this last month was the worst. I was the most emotional person in the world. I took everything personal and I was more angry than I ever am. I found myself crying about the most meaningless things. For example, I couldn’t find my makeup primer, it was as if my dog died in my arms on the way to the vet. The extreme emotions I felt were almost unreal. I was a walking PMS commercial complete with cramps, bloating and chocolate, 10 seconds from pushing an elderly woman down because she was walking too slow and wouldn’t allow me to pass. I even found my self asking “Whose child is this?”, because a 5-year-old was running rampant in my local Wal-Mart, but looking back on it no more than a regular 5-year-old does. The next time I turn into the wicked witch of the west I will stay indoors like vampire on a sunny day and wait for it to pass. I couldn’t get a handle on my emotions and nothing I could say to myself made me more rational, even though I recognized that I was irritable and angry for no reason other than my monthly reminder of womanhood.
