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PMS = Potential Murder Suspect

IMG_8400Once a month my evil twin comes for a visit. She is mean, nasty and rotten to the core. She says things I’d never dream of saying. For instance, today in the kitchen D was innocently preparing lunch when she noticed something astounding. HE WAS USING THE WRONG KNIFE! I mean, who in their right mind uses a serrated steak knife to delicately slice up an onion? After pointing his mistake out she insisted on cutting up her own onion with the correct paring knife. Because, you know, his onion was definitely not good enough for her.

Continuing to cook he asked if she would like one or two pieces of meat. Noticing that he was making himself two she responded in a joking tone, “Well if I wanted to continue to be fat I would eat two, but since I do not then I will only take one.” They both laughed. Good thing D has a great sense of humor and has been rolling with the punches for over 23 years.

I started to try and explain the pain I was feeling today, “I hate PMS. It literally feels like I am going to murder someone and for no good reason.” It is the truth. There is something chemically that happens to me each month when she arrives. She literally has a way of taking over and turning my kind happy self into the worst possible version of me. I started thinking about why I have this curse and then I decided perhaps it MIGHT be a good thing.

A few pro’s of PMS:

PMS turns my RBF {resting bit– face} into a verb. Hell hath no fury like PMS visiting, especially the look on said face.

PMS encourages my husband to give me the remote. “Hey selfish remote controlling husband, let’s watch something we both like.”

PMS helps my son mind me when I ask the first time. “You better do your chores right the first time or you will NEVER, EVER, PLAY ANOTHER VIDEO GAME IN YOUR LIFE AGAIN. PERIOD!”

PMS encourages a clean house. “Who left the Brita on the counter and worse yet spilled it all over, not even giving a thought into picking up after themselves? When I find out who it was they will have hell to pay.”

PMS makes the dog mind. While threatening with the fly swatter, “You better get your spoiled butt out to pee, you haven’t gone for 12 hours and I don’t care if it is raining!”

PMS doesn’t have to cook. “Let’s pick up the family pack from Wing Stop because I’m not cooking today and this mom needs some chicken!”

PMS gets things done. There is nothing quite like the energy that comes from being generally pissed off about everything.

PMS get’s what she wants as the husband and children live in fear for their lives.

I’m not sure what the solution is to feeling like a Potential Murder Suspect. But in my case, laughter is the best medicine. And this week I just might need a double dose of that. Haha.

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