pre-menstrual syndrome.

Days like these it's all I can do to stay afloat. Go to work, don't take unnecessary vacation days, don't curl up into a ball under my desk, don't buy a tub of Edy's ice cream that isn't even on sale and eat the whole thing. Keep on keepin' on, you know? I suppose there are vicious people out there who could play mind games on me, talk to me in such a way that I would begin to doubt myself, doubt those I care about, doubt anything that mattered, but no one could ever do it as well as I do it to myself. And the thing is that I can't see when my own body chemicals turn against me, like maybe I could be suspicious of another person, but how am I supposed to be able to see these things in myself? I never see it coming at all, though supposedly it's like clockwork, and the only way I ever know is after it's all over when I see a stain and suddenly it's all clear like a blood red epiphany. No, sometimes I do realize it before it's too late, but I see no advantage to that, as my lack of control over my own emotions and paranoia only depresses me further. Sometimes I don't realize it until I'm sitting in my car, cursing at the little old man going 10 under the speed limit through the stream of tears brought on by that stupid Dido song that just came on the radio. I am amazed not only at my range of emotions, but the fact that I seem to be able to feel them simultaneously. I cling to my relationships and then am disgusted by them, alternately fearful that no one actually likes me and then irritated at everyone for, I don't know, breathing loudly. Don't even get me started on my body image. I've heard that some women get bloating - I think I just seem to notice my own general fatness more.

I got a letter in the mail inviting me to participate in a medical study, the qualifications being women between the ages of 18 and 40 who suffered from severe PMS. And I threw it in the trash, thinking, Nah, I don't have it that bad.