PMS

I have always refused to blog . I am a very emotional, impulsive, open person with a very lowered sense of discretion, and I'm afraid I will write about personal things , about my honest opinions of things and will land myself in a truckload of trouble.
But , these days I find myself incredibly bored and for the lack of a better occupation ( actually, from the lack of a will to be productively occupied) , I've decided to throw caution to winds and blog. I could create a fake account and write under a psudonym and avoid being ostracised from society but I'm stupid that way, I like attention.

These past few days have been rough. PMS thinks I'm its experiment field where it can develop ever more lethal weapons to destroy unsuspecting victims. Thanks to its immense love for me, I get its first, intense blast. For the last ten years, I've tried hard to raise awareness about this condition that people treat lightly and even humoursly. Let me assure you that its not a thing to be ignored and certainly not a thing to be laughed at. I'm not going to list the symptoms here. A basic wikipedia search will furnish you with more than enough information.
Now, this might come as news to you ( both to men and lucky women) , there are some of us who are so comepletely ravaged by this condition that we are rendered dysfunctional and crippled for 7-10 days a month. Most women feel irritable and emotional and vulnerable for a couple of days, have food cravings, and cramps, then go straight back to being happy angels for the rest of the month. While, a small percentage of us turn into veritable monsters destroying everything in our wake. You will find us weeping under the bed, using words that would shame sailors (well, designers these days) , staring out the window into a fiery oblivion, throwing up, moaning in pain, texting everyone on our contacts list, then blocking everyone on our contacts list, eating every 30 minutes and still complaining about starvation, breaking up , harrassing boyfriends/husbands/best friends , breaking vases and setting fire to work, and snapping at everyone within a 10 foot distance.
You do not need to tell us we are being irrational and irresponsible. We are very well aware of this, and hate this persona of ours more than you can ever hope to.
Calling us sissies, spoilt bitches, drama queens is the same as calling end stage cancer patients cry babies, and aids patients sluts. And , it is usually the women who are lucky enough to have laughable PMS that do this. And, I do not know enough curses to blast you to hell. I hope your hormones do a number on you and you get thrown under the real PMS bus, and you get divorced and no one loves you and no one understands wtf you are going through, as you so merrily refuse to understand us. I do not ask for sympathy, but a little empathy won't kill you. Men , well, eff you. I'm not even going to bother with trying to explain how you treat us unfortunate few and what you think about us. I wish someone would kick you in the nads once a month and then say " aww, you poor crazy boy" .

I know I sound bitter and full of hatered. But, I'm not a matyr, and I take no pleasure in suffering silently and forgiving patiently and singing about rainbows when my soul is being ripped apart. We are perfectly lovely people for 20-23 days a month, so how about you cut us some slack, and realise that we are ones who are truly suffering in this scenario. And that it pains us to treat you the way we do, but we have no control, and feel helpless and lost and destroyed. I hope this rant gets through to some of you , and you start to respect and understand at least a fraction of what some of the women in your life go through, and try to be there for them instead of calling them insane and condemning them for life.

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