I cried this morning because the dog chewed my make up sponge and I’ve caught pink-eye from my youngest child (the dirty little bastard) and my life is fucking shit and I want to smash my husband’s face in with a breeze block.
Not really. I just have P.M.T. Which basically means I am my normal self, but a fat-bastard version, with acne of the ENTIRE FACE AND BODY and an extreme hatred of everyone on the planet, including my hideous, greedy, ugly, fat-twat self. Other than that, I feel fine. Perfectly fine. Although did I also mention that I fucking hate everyone?
I’m planning on getting through the rest of the day by: a) looking at my ugly face crying in the mirror, b) eating chocolate digestives and crying some more into the mirror and c) hating my shitty existence and crying into the mirror a bit more. Just kidding. I have to work/clean/prepare tea/walk the bastard dog/wash the pink-eye pillow cases/look after small people/buy a new make-up sponge/generally act like a non-psychopath in public.
Anyway, I wanted to make sure it was normal to be experiencing what can only be described as intense feelings of abhorrence at my own life in the days leading up to the kind visit from Aunt Flo, so I googled it. And according to google I’m either: a) going through early menopause (cue further googling to convince myself that yes, I am menopausal, and my husband should take this shit seriously and start having some fucking sympathy); b) dying (cue further googling to rule out death); or c) preparing to expel an unfertilised egg and shit loads of womb lining out of my fanny within the next few days (the most plausible explanation, of course, and hardly surprising as I’ve done it 9 times so far this year).
In my self-diagnosis, I came across a rather useless and unhelpful diagram of the female menstrual cycle. You know the one you have to look at in Biology lessons? It’s about as useful as my white jeans will be this time next week. (By the way, have you seen that sanitary towel advert where the girl is wearing white jeans and smiling away at the fact that it’s 5am and she’s still out partying with friends? Go home and get a shower you mucky bitch!) So I decided to edit the diagram slightly. I do hope it’s useful now.
The Great British Housewife 