PMS sucks- for everyone involved. I’m sure it’s a total drag for Robert, since he usually gets stuck bearing the brunt of my bad attitude during this fateful week. Working with the public is practically impossible. I just want to sit on my sofa, crying at the drop of a hat (Kleenex commercials and Good Morning America reunion specials are really kicking my ass this time around.) My boobs hurt, and no, I don’t want to get dressed, I just want another bong hit. Normally I’d soften the blow shoving whatever I can find into my main face hole- except that I’ve recently started a vegan diet. What the fuck was I thinking? How on earth did I think I could get through this week without cheese, ice cream or chocolate cake? I know, I know- I could cheat, just this once, but what is that going to do for my self esteem? How is that going to help on me on my path to be the not fat friend? Oh my god I just want a block of pepper jack and a loaf of bread or some truffled mashed potatoes with loads of butter and heavy cream. Why cheese? Why must you torment me so? Somehow I get the feeling my morning juice cocktail along with whatever unprocessed, sugar free whole grain concoction I might put together just is not going to cut it today. Wish me luck.
By Beth Fox Brown