Seriously though, as much as I'm actually awful at heart, this past week I've suffered through the worst PMS I have ever, ever experienced. I thought my boobs were going to explode over the weekend - first the right with a bang, then the left with a listless puff, that's how aware I was of the swelling and tenderness - I've acne on my shoulders, my face is a spotty mess, I cry at the drop of a hat and I was irrationally and completely enraged by my husband's request that I deliver him his credit card (that I'd borrowed and forgotten to return, which he needed in a hurry, which wasn't particularly out of my way). I spent at least 15 minutes thinking of different ways to disembowel the bastard until I remembered:
- I quite like him usually, in fact I married him not so long ago;
- I prefer him intact (after the bloody thumb-slicing mandolin incident I took a stance on P and gashes in his flesh); and
- My period was days overdue.
Well, my friends, I guess I spoke far too soon. Genetics is a bitch and it appears that I am no longer immune to the vagaries of my reproductive system, asshole though it appears she's becoming.