Gross Girl Diary: I’m a PMS Monster
I wake up with tears behind my eyes, and I know it’s almost time. Ugh. I can feel them just lurking there, waiting to pour out at the least opportune moment.
There was that time, when one of my coworkers brought in her baby, and when it grabbed onto my finger, Tears. I don’t even like babies that much, and this one wasn’t particularly special, but it was my ovaries crying, not my brain. Everyone I worked with saw me sobbing with a baby latched onto my pinkie and had a good laugh, but were also probably wondering what medication I was on (or needed). But of course, I’d rather my coworkers think me completely unhinged than tell them the truth.
Another time, I made a salad for my family and my visiting grandparents. Not just any salad though, it had bomb-ass cheese and nectarines and prosciutto, and I was pumped for it. But then my mom served me the crap lettuce part and none of the good stuff and no one would share with me. I glared at my plate. fighting the tears, but soon the unfairness of it all broke me down. Lower lip trembling, a single, dramatic tear escaped my eye.
My dad is like, “Wait…Are you crying?!”
“Noo-oo-oooo!” I sobbed.
And my poor, sweet grandparents are probably sitting there like, “How the fuck did they let this girl graduate college? How did she survive college?!”
But I let them think I’m a mentally ill princess because the truth would be uncomfortable.
So, I wake up today knowing that I may look like an idiot if I take too many emotional risks. I decide to hole myself up in my room all day and draw out the tears with whatever shitty rom-coms are on Aussie Netflix.
Sure, my boyfriend’s family might think I’m a huge asshole/hermit for spending a sunny Saturday in bed, but it’s better than they learn that I’m pms-ing, right?
Sometimes I think the truth could be easier. Maybe next time I’ll say, “Sorry, I’m a hormonal monster today, and I don’t want to inflict myself upon you.” But I’ll probably just end up crying.