I have PMS. Seriously. I have it to the point that in my complete and utter bitch session about it to ShaNaNa, she suggested I get some Midol, that it may help. The following is our conversation:
ShaNaNa: Dude you should get some Midol, it will help.
QT: That shit doesn’t work dude, no way.
ShaNaNa: Get the blue pills, they will help! The blue ones work for me.
QT: Seriously? I’m just totally completely bitchy, are they really going to help?
ShaNaNa: They may. It can’t hurt.
QT: Okay maybe I’ll give them a try.
So that morning, I head off to CVS and stare at the Midol section, finally finding the blue pills she suggests. As I’m standing there, bitchy as all hell, staring at the thousands of different kinds of PMS pill, I finally find the stupid blue ones and buy them. I get to work and open the box, to see the pills that are wrapped in packaging similar to this:
Now can someone explain to me why the hell anyone would wrap these pills in packaging so damned HARD TO OPEN? I freaking wrestled with these pills for half a freaking hour, as well as trying to stab them with scissors of hope of opening them, and maybe once I threw them down in a fit of um, ya know, rage … just simply trying to get them out of the damn package. Let’s just say, by the time I swallowed them, with Googlie and Twitch looking at me like I was insane, they had already made the bitchiness of my PMS worse! Seriously MIDOL People, what the hell are you thinking?
Another thing that I’m frustrated with (and this is all month long) is my bathing suit. Okay maybe not so much the SUIT but more so how I look in it. I am reposting something I once wrote forever ago …
Oh the horror of swim suits. The single thing that can make this mama go from a confident happy woman to feeling like I’m in 9th grade again, trying to fit in. Let’s pretend for a moment shall we?
I’m in the dressing room and I find a PERFECT suit. You know the one I mean. The color is fabulous on me, it makes my boobs perky and happy again; and of course, shows a perfect amount of cleavage that everyone who looks at me will find completely sexy. It makes my butt and hips look SMALL. It even somehow camouflages the … Ugh … bit of cellulite that came to visit a few years ago and has yet to return to the evil place it came from. I tell you what – if I ever found this suit? I don’t care if it cost 2 billion dollars, I’d buy it. On the spot. Remortgage my home. Sell a few eggs, I don’t care. I’d BUY IT.
Now let’s return from La La Land and back to reality. Facts: I carried a baby for nine months who laid transverse in my stomach until 8 months. I gave birth to said child, without drugs! Go me. I breastfed and pumped my poor breasts until they were I’m sure, resembling my grandmothers breasts on her deathbed. I admit freely that I carry weight in my hips. I have the … what does Wingman call it? Hourglass shape. I’ve always had larger breasts and wider hips. And a small waist. Jeans, pants, etc that fit my hips? Never fit my waist. I have scars on my stomach from a small amount of skin cancer that was found there and needed to be surgically removed. I believe I have, *sigh*, stretch marks from having Emilee. Not a lot, but definitely … two. Perhaps three. I am thirty freaking six and while I can hide certain things in the clothes I choose to wear, these same things are not able to be hidden in a bathing suit dammit! And so, with a combination of horror and shame, I get into my swim suit every weekend for my daughter, who loves going to the pool. But I also get into it with this notion: Being thirty freaking six has also brought me some clarity as well. I am who I am. I have what I have. I accentuate what I have to the best of my ability. I do not hate my body, because really, what good does it do? If you like me, then you’re gonna have to like ALL of me: breasts, stretch marks, cancer scars and hips included. And if you don’t? Well, then … my life will go on.
And lastly, you know what helps ALL of these issues I have?
VODKA. Regular and Pear.
Glad to report that today I woke up feeling a helluva lot better. Thank the Good Lord.