PMS is the strangest thing. Lethal, but strange. Maybe not so much strange, more like…Fascinating. Perhaps not on the receiving end anyway. I was observing an individual in my office – whom shall remain unnamed because this blog could fall into the wrong hands, mind you – and saw her transform from a jolly upbeat person to a cross-breed of the mother-in-law from hell and the meanest Ah Nyong selling mee goreng at the school canteen. If she’s not quietly seething, she’s pissed at everything/one else around her. And then next thing you know…She invites me and my colleagues for lunch. Dare you decline? Man, if she wanted us to do the Macarena naked in the street, we would have probably said yes just to make her happy. I say probably because I really hate doing the Macarena.

Har har.

But to be fair, I’m guilty of PMS myself. Thing is, I never had a problem with it until I reached my twenties. Or perhaps I only REALISED it then. Wow. First there’s the food cravings. From the usual chocolate bar to the real oddities like…Bak kut teh. And then there’s the mood swings. I pity the fool who stands in my way at this time of the month. Like last Saturday, I snapped at Wilson in the car because he wouldn’t turn on the light so I could put my lipstick on. When he finally did, I turned it off and said, “Forget it lah, I’ll do it in the dark.” Enter awkward silence. And then Lester pokes me from the back seat and mouths, “What’s wrong?” And I roll my eyes. Waaaaah, bitchy overload man…

I felt so bad after that but I’m lucky my guy friends are so wonderfully understanding, muah muah (love you guys…I promise to be nice for the next 28 days). Oh and then there’s the crying. Yep, the one where every song/picture/ad on tv makes you tear up.
“My God did you guys hear the Nescafe ad on the radio this morning….? Sob sob.”

I read something really funny in a magazine – ok albeit at the female population’s expense – about women and that time of the month. A guy wrote, “How can you trust something that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die?”

Come on, you have to admit that’s kinda funny.

“I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother, I’m a sinner, I’m a saint.
I do not feel ashamed. I’m your hell, I’m your dream, I’m nothing in between.
You know you wouldn’t want it any other way…”
-Meredith Brooks, with her oh-so-true rendition of “Bitch”