24 February 2005

Really mad and really rambling

Its 'that' week of the month.

Too much info for you already? Well then BOG OFF, cos thats the mood I'm in.

No, I'm a hopeless stupid liar, thats just the mood I wish so very bloody hard that I was in, but somehow the bravado is missing it's underpinning. I feel like a bark with no dog, snarl grunph grrr, but never mind no teeth, I couldn't even give chase. And heaven help me if someone snarls back.

What really, really pisses me off about this is the paranoia. I have no idea whether it's built in to the situation, but such are the tales of women being nasty, murderous creatures during their period that I cant even make a stab at a witty retort without hurrying to some dark corner to fret over whether I came across as a bitch.

"Was that a cowish thing I just said?"

"Is X going to think I am completely unhinged now?"

"Have I just committed social suicide?"

See what I mean? One sideways remark = up to a good hour of insecurity, depending on how unexpected it was, followed by depression. For any men that haven't puked and moved on by now, this is how it goes:
  1. You spend a week every month with stomach cramps - think charcoal BBQ embers, inside, around the belly button area, and bad enough to feel like you have also been punched in both kidneys.
  2. Its tiring, and depressing, and inconvenient and not something you can 'share' (unless like me you have decided to commit blogicide).
  3. You have this slightly anaemic, breathless feeling like the hollow after-effect of a three day bender when you got back to work, but somehow, even a couple of days later, you just cant get your shit together.
And thats all there is to it really, but woe betide anyone who says anything crass or smarmy which, lets face it, is most likely to be a man. Out comes the inner Attilla. Suddenly you are not dealing with the woman you thought you knew, but with the spirit of the biggest, most aggressive XYY man you have ever sheepishly crossed the road to avoid. On the other hand, if you were feeling the heat all day every day, you'd be pretty short tempered by day two, no? I swear, if men had periods they'd all come to work clutching hot water bottles to their guts and spend most of the time giving each other back rubs and comparing aches.

Catch 22 is, while you're stepping back muttering "Where the fuck did THAT come from?", she is (I am) realising what just happened, going through the omg omg omg mantra and mentally rushing off to panic in a corner somewhere about what a dreadful thing she/I just said/did, too anaemic and tired and dizzy to work out whether the insult was one which would wear off in a day or two, or enough to have you spend every night for the next year warning all and sundry not to go near her/me because she's/I'm the ultimate psycho bitch from hell.

The WORST thing you can do is decide to bolster your own defences or reply just as caustically because by that time Attilla has turned into a lost and marginally frantic five year old, who is going to cry lots and hate you 'for ever and ever' if you be mean.

Be honest, you've been there.

I dont think we women become evil when we're 'on', I just think that our normal amounts of inbuilt evil get zapped by hormones and solidify, so instead of a steady gentle flow of acidic wit all day, some poor sod gets the lot, all at once, and then wham, we're clean out of viciousness and subsequently defenceless, just at the point when he's tooling up to protect himself.

On the other hand, I'm on, so am prepared to believe that this may just be the biggest pile of rubbish I have ever written and that I will look at it in three or four days and decide that's the end of my blogging career.

Girls, please comment, have you been there, or am I bleeping odd?
Guys, have you lived through this with your wife or girlfriend?
Hello? Anybody out there?

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit..........................


HW4ALL said...

Just one thing to say.....



Badaunt said...

You forgot the physical dyslexia. You know, when you put the milk in the cupboard and the sugar in the fridge and then yell at someone else for hiding them from you.

But more seriously... the biggest help I've ever had (aside from drugs) was when my acupuncturist told me to keep my lower legs and feet warm. It STOPS THE CRAMPS! I couldn't believe noone had ever told me this before. The downside is that you're supposed to keep your legs warm all the time, which is a fashion disaster, and also when you're in pain you'll find your lower legs are like ice and resist warming. You have to be determined.

She Weevil said...

Badaunt, I thought it was only me that did those things - generally frozen stuff in the oven. I'm away to put some socks on. Bring back legwarmers, I say.

This is not social suicide, Baggage, or blogicide it needs to be said and you have inspired me to scribble a couple of things down.


Kim said...

Don't forget that your skin turns into something from a horror movie, none of your clothes fit you, and the pretty rings on your fingers are cutting off your circulation. Your children are suddenly ugly people, and you become convinced your husband is the dumbest creature ever to walk the earth. yeah, I can relate.