in a simple survival kit containing: 1 bottle of wine, 1 large box of chocolate, 1
package of tissues, 1 bottle of Midol and an 800 # for a local shrink. This would be
presented in a very chic box enhanced by some very delightful bath oil You would
think after years and years of this abuse I would be much more adept at controlling
my emotions etc. during this "special time." (Sadly, I have noticed that even
domesticated animals steer clear of me during these six days of hell....ok, who
am I kidding, it's more like twelve.)
My particular rant this month involves a Pity Party for One in which I am always the
hostess. My raging hormones have me convinced that I am completely undesirable and
would be better off living amongst a pack of wolves. The temptation is there, but I don't
think I could handle their rejection as well.
In this state my Superwoman alter ego deflates faster than my attempt at baking a
souffle. My pants are tighter, my sweet tooth takes over my nutritional needs and
if you are nice to me I will most definitely cry. I feel that relief is in sight when
I can stand to be in the same room as my family for more than five minutes without
tearing up.
How about I get back to you in all, in say, twelve days?
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