It’s moments like these that remind me why it’s no fun to be me.

Don’t expect any intelligence from me today; it’s not going to happen.

(Imagine the voice of the Red Queen, if you know what I’m talking about.) I’ve been a bad, bad girl. I confess, I haven’t taken my pills. Yeah, I know, scold me, whatever…I can’t bring myself to care. That is until my body decided to rebel against me. Bitch. I’m supposed to take these pills whenever I go too long without having a period. Yeah, I know, just what you wanted to know. If that disturbs you, leave now. No really. You may be permanently scarred upon reading further (it’s not that bad, but who knows, maybe you have a weak stomach). I think I’m supposed to take them when I hit the three month mark. Well, I’m sorry doc, but it’s been five. Boohoo. I have a higher risk for cancer, that’s what you keep waving in my face. You know what I say to that? Goodie goodie.

I don’t like those pills, never have. They give me the cramps from hell, mood swings that could decapitate someone, and enough (excuse the bluntness) blood to make me believe that I may have been mortally wounded while sleeping. I don’t want babies, but unfortunately, most doctors look at you funny when you’re 18 and say “cut all that shit out of me, pretty please”. They either, 1. think it’s just a phase and someday the biological clock will tick in. Or 2. that you’re just saying it for attention. I assure you that it’s neither. It’s more the fact that children disgust me and I’d sooner die than become soccer mom. I’m sorry but it’s just not my calling in life. At all.

I was all celebrating the five month mark when my body decided to betray me. I feel like someone is pinching my insides…and enjoying it. I also am moody as fuck right now, annoyed beyond belief. Christ on a cross. Anyway…. You know how they say exercise helps? Well, it DOESN’T. DOES. NOT. WORK. Lies, filthy lies. Bastards. Fascists. It’s a a scheme to do…something. Probably increase exercise. Although I guess we are talking about two different types of exercise: steady but lengthy (like the doctors would likely advise), and mean as hell (like I would advise). There’s something about being pissed and annoyed that increases my performance level. Probably because being slow bugs the shit out of me in such moods. Fast just doesn’t seem fast enough.

In a few days I can expect the major depression. I tend to get it not only regularly, but almost always during my period. Then I’m extremely depressed, irritated, and emotional all at the same time. What’s hilarious is that I could watch some dumb as fuck lifetime movie of my mother’s and I’d likely cry. Yes, me, the one who watches horror movies, almost never cries, and would sooner die than watch a lovey-dovey flick can get choked up from shit that I generally view as I.Q. dropping and pointless. How the mighty have fallen.

If I start whining and crying while watching Old Yeller, do me a favor and lob my head off.

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