Hostilities have ceased within Totes Towers, at least for a couple of days. I have got my period. I remember the good old days when a period was just a bit of an inconvenience for a couple of days preceded by a bit of a grump but nothing too bad. These days though there’s at least 7 days notice in the form of night sweats. I wake drenched at varying points thoughout the night. I start with a pyjama top on and wake to find that I have clawed at it so that it’s now wringing wet and my boobs are exposed. The top is wrapped around my neck. At this point I usually take it off and throw it across the bedroom to add to the pile of sweaty smelly washing. Then I get cold. I’ve kicked all the damp covers off that will also need washing (because I need more fucking washing to do) and then I begin to freeze. If I’m particularly lucky at this point, I get a wriggly 5 year old boy in the bed with me as well.
As the time comes closer to the first day of my monthly breakdown I get more and more tired and have even less patience than usual which is hard because I have very little on a good day. Yesterday morning the poor little shits were told at least 17 times that “mummy has no patience today so please do what I ask before the 29th time that I’ve asked you. They didn’t actually heed my warnings and were very surprised when I went beetroot red and actual steam started coming out of my ears. They know things are bad when they all have IPads and phones confiscated by a demented hag that’s charging around the house issuing a frenzy of demands followed up by confiscation of beloved objects whilst stuffing chocolate into her gob.
“Are you ok mummy? Have you got hormones”
“Yes darling, I’ve got hormones”
And Dangerous doesn’t help. “Aaaaah I see. It’s that time of the month”
“No – I’m always to be found weeping and swearing at my laptop because it’s fucking uploading or downloading or whatever the fucking term is fucking photos fucking sideways”
“Well I won’t help you if you talk to me like that.”
“Just make it fucking work before I smash it up with a hammer. It’s out to fucking get me. It’s possessed”
At 10.00 last night I accidentally ate a whole packet of granola cookies. They made me. They looked at me. There’s also going to be an inquest into who ate the Easter egg out of the fridge. I got my whole upper body inside the fridge whilst I ripped at the packaging in an orgy of greed.
This is Dangerous’s idea of what my mood is usually like due to hormones.
Week 1 whist having period – mental – fucking doolally. Could quite possibly be sectioned under the mental health act due to irrational behaviour.
Week 2 the week after is known as post menstrual tension. A new term invented by my husband to excuse anything that he says or does. I often point out that there is no such thing as Post menstral syndrome. He just snorts with derision.
Week 3. There are a couple of days when the mad cow is normal.
Week 4 – pre menstrual mentalness again. Hide all chocolate and take cover.
Dress Zara last year £15ish – it was in the sale. It may have even been 2 years ago.
Trousers Zara sale £6.99 in January
Shoes about £25 from Office last week.