Dear PMS,
I hate you. I no longer need you. You make me feel like I'm about to sproing at any second. It's not a happy thing.
You give me pain. You bloat me. You make me crave baked goods and spicy food. You make me cry. You are stupid.
Truthfully, you've done your part in my life. Please consult my uterus and stop the madness. I am 40, for God's sake! Give it UP already!!!
With Deepest Disdain,
Leslie
5 comments:
Bwahahaha! Love your letter - hate the PMS...and Chuck and Harvey and Henry and Squilliam.
So, did PMS write you back yet???
It really is a curse, ya know? And I don't think we're terribly deserving of it. Sorry to hear of your discomfort. :(
blame Eve
Nice to have the empathy of your hubby when it counts. Do you think he understands the volatile environment in which he makes this comment? Some may call him brave. I stop just shy of calling him "Jimmy".
I don't think Jimmy would be happy if he knew you were calling him names. He's worked hard to earn his rep. He may not wanna be affiliated with a black belt. I'm just sayin.
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