PMS Means I’m Not Up To My Usual Massive Wall of Text. You’re Welcome.
Posted by Moose on May 25th, 2010. Filed under: My Brain Needs a Drink.Hipsters in plaid shirts and neon sunglasses seriously disturb me. Because it means that things I was wearing in high school with a gravely earnest air have come back as nostalgia fashion. Combined with the double chin I’ve noticed cropping up in pictures, I’m ready to stop aging now. Who can make that happen for me? While they’re at it, I’d like a fireplace that burns things during this unseasonable rain and a complete wardrobe overhaul, one that features cute scarves and high boots rather than cotton t-shirts with holes.
Griping seems to come with the PMS landscape and for that I apologize. I also apologize for the PMS discussion, but mine gets pretty intense – especially when I’m eating sugar – and therefore I must talk about it. Basically, I just start crying a lot. Crying in unfortunate public places, crying when Kurt’s dad gets all heartfelt on Glee, crying when I remember that the next episode is directed by Joss Whedon and stars Neil Patrick Harris and that just makes me so darn happy, crying when I realize that half my to-do list is tapping its toe and glaring at me with bitter resentment because I got sidetracked by Glee. Well, tearing up. I’m not sobbing buckets or anything. But I am offering pitiful lies about eye drops when anyone asks. Given how much I suspect sugar impacts all this, it would be smart to stop eating sugar. But cutting sugar when you’re already in the grips of the cyclical moon beast is like learning to swim when you’re drowning, which is to say: futile.
Griping aside, ye olde PMS isn’t actually that bad. Not as compared to past years. I know what’s going on and I know how to handle it and I know it will get better. It’s the double chin trade-off, I suppose. My face is sagging, but my self-knowledge is wearing a tube top and flipping its hair as it struts down the sidewalk. Wouldn’t it be nice if you could cherry-pick the best elements of your life and appearance from the various eras? I’d choose my self-knowledge circa now, my muscle tone of 2006, my skin and hair of 2005, my shoes of 2007, and my IQ of 1999. And I’d filch someone else’s spatial awareness.
One (the only?) good thing about PMS is that my moaning dissatisfaction offers valuable post-PMS instruction. My to-do list will soon include things like cut sugar, pull better wardrobe from the ether, learn how to stop aging. See? HELPFUL.
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May 25th, 2010 at 9:31 pm
That’s not a double chin, crazy! And that’s one of my favorite pics of your Julie shoot, too!
May 25th, 2010 at 10:11 pm
So you try to bash your picture (where you do not have a double chin btw) and then don’t even mention how fantastic you look on the first image over at iliveheresf? I hope you can stop crying soon
May 26th, 2010 at 7:12 am
Ah yes, the smiles-so-hard-I’m-giving-myself-a-double-chin chin. I get that often. At least it’s from smiling and not from frowning!
May 26th, 2010 at 9:25 am
Oh, my. I also drowned in a shallow pool of tears when Kurt’s dad turned into a Mama Lion to defend him against Finn’s slurs.
I know that, as a guy, I also PMS. Why else would I be eating chocolate so consistently?
May 26th, 2010 at 10:05 am
1. Not a double chin.
2. I am not a fan of this weather AT ALL. I’m feeling bundled up, and still cold.
3. I’d choose my weight of 1999, my hair of 2009, and my wardrobe of 2004. Unfortunately, the latter would require that I move back to Texas.
May 27th, 2010 at 7:23 am
I have to agree with the other commenters. That’s not a double chin–not even close! Nope. Actually, if this doesn’t sound odd, did you once write that you studied ballet for years? I can still see it in your posture. So, again, you’re pretty far from having a double chin.
I’m curious about where you got the jeans that you wore in the shoot pictures.
May 27th, 2010 at 7:41 am
“things I was wearing in high school with a gravely earnest air have come back as nostalgia fashion.”
THAT is what I wished I could say when LEGGINGS came in to vogue. Instead, all I could do was sputter and eat cookies.
I wish someone would come teach me how to wear cowboy boots without the whole “oh, gawd, she’s from BOSTON and wearing THOSE BOOTS? At her AGE?”
(I have a problems with the all-caps thing today. Sorry.)
May 27th, 2010 at 9:32 pm
Cyclical Moon Beast! Can I be the drummer? Please!