The Wednesday Whine: PMS

When I was a teenager I used to suffer from almost debilitating PMS. Raging mood swings that were completely baffling. Cramps that most resembled the claws of a large jungle cat (and not one of the sexy ones) ripping through my abdomen. Migraines that left me seeing spots.  I retained so much fluid you could probably have flung me onto a burning building and then canceled the firemen. I probably single-handedly sent half the stockholders of Midol’s children to college.

As happens with many girls, these symptoms eased a bit as I got older. I learned things to do for the cramps (yay, yoga!). The headaches ramped way down.  The mood swings stopped raging and just… swung.

So, here I am, more years later than I want to count, and I’m PMS-ing. I’m weepy. I despise weepy people. I’m stoic, dammit. I do not weep. I want a small island sized chunk of chocolate. Hell, why limit myself to small… I want a fricking European continent sized chunk of chocolate. My boob’s hurt. Enough that I want to cry about it. Did I mention how I feel about weepy people? (this, by the way, is a new development – I’m thinking it was the trade-off for losing the migraines)

For various reasons I can’t take Midol or other OTC PMS relievers, which leaves me wandering around the house randomly telling the cats “I’m depressed,” or “Mommy wants to cry”. Pitiful. I’d like to say I’m able to channel all this angst into my writing – and I did get a really powerful (I think) scene from Blue’s story in one of my mid-night mope-fests – but basically I just sit around whining or trying not to whine and feeling lethargic.

I’ve been using the natural remedy of Licorice Root capsules in the AM and Black Cohash caps at night, and it helps some. Some months it helps a LOT. Some (like this one) not so much.

Sigh.

Maybe it’s time to dig out the Tequila Rose again…

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