Tag Archives: PMS

Constipation Blues and it is icky

You walk into the little room feeling like a slave to your own body, you walk out from the little room feeling like the Queen of every freaking thing including your body.

The monthlies, as you all know come every single month. For those of us who are (1) females (2) not yet menopause:d and (3) for those of us who are regular.

Last month, I wrote about the hurting boobs. This month, I will do constipation.

A different freaking “PMS symptom” everything single month.

The whole week before the menses, you pee, like a zillion times every day, and in the middle of the night too. Nothing else happens in that little room. Well, sometimes, a bean drops with a splash, small like goat droppings, the happiness is overwhelming when that splash catches your ear.

You eat beans, no, not the splashing beans above, Heinz Chili for example, plums, greens in all shapes and forms, yogurt, berries. Everything that the “doctors” created by experience recommend. Nothing. Exactly nothing.

You sleep badly. You have a headache. You are close to annoyance all the time and it has nothing to do with too little sex.

You know the bloody-week is coming so you are not too worried about the causes & consequences of constipation, but you still wonder “why the hell does nothing come?”

You are eating like a pregnant elephant horse during this week. “where is all the food going?!” you ponder

And on D-day, you wake up pressed, and there is a little pain in the underbelly, some bloody goings on and you really have to go! You take People magazine, Time, The weekend edition, Popeye, that book your boyfriend bought you for your birthday, your phone to check Instagram jaa, I am projecting again etc.

This may take a while. You have been here before.

You walk in there in a hurry.

You lock the door so no-one can open that door by mistake. Not on this day. This hallelujah day. This glorious blessed day.

You set yourself up properly and begin the ritual you know so well. The screams and moans can be heard by neighbors & passersby.

Who cares though?!

“ooohhhhh crap!” you shout. “My lawd!”, “Yeeees”, “come on then!”

It is like watching a match that is both going as you want and yet not. It hurts a little bit but it is better than the opposite.

And there is a song about this crapping experience pun intended. Who Knew?! I should have that blasting in the little room next time this is the “symptom”.

Let it go! Let it go! Let it go! Let it go!
I don’t believe I can take much more
Let it go

Got a pain down inside
Won’t be denied
Yeah, every time I try
I can’t be satisfied
Let it go!
Let it, let it go!

This pain down inside
Just won’t let me be satisfied
Let it go!

Splash!
Feel, ah, I-I feel alright
Yes-ah, I’m beginning to feel alright now
Splash!
Yeah, yeah, I tell ya, everything’s gonna be alright
Splash!
Flush

Phew
Phew
Phew…
Feel alright

My Boobs Hurt

I have been on a bra hunt for over 10 years now. A constant desperate hunt.

bras

There are booklets about bras. Articles about bras. Books. Real books, about bras. Stand Up comedy about bras.

When the boobies first showed up, they hurt. They were perky tits. Pointed breasts. Fantastic.

I swear you could see the nipples from 3 kilometers away.

A late bloomer, my fun balloons showed up at between 15-16 years old. I was skinny; a boobies and bones kind of awkward.

The fun balls needed to be hidden. Concealed from all the neighborhood adolescent boys who were sniffing around. The nuns thought the boys could smell the nipples like the cat can smell a rat hidden in a ditch.

There were many helpers within the secret society of “African Aunts”. All the nuns, aunts, cousins & female friends were committed.

Over 10 years into this journey and the boobs are still one of the reasons I make those grand trips to the malls.

Recently, the pleasure bags hurt every month during the premenstrual days.

There is the far away headache.

There is the far away backache.

There is the moodiness and the claws barely sheathed.

premenstrual him: “love, did you put on the kettle?”

premenstrual Me: “don’t you call me love! it is patronizing! why would I put the kettle on?? because I am a woman??!”

Ovulating me: “yes dear. & the egg is boiling! kiss kiss”

Premenstrual him: “are you having your periods?”

Premenstrual me:screeEEEEeeeeEEEEEeeEEEEEEEK

.!

Premenstrual him: am off to work then! have a nice day. sorry, running late!

There is the huge torch of a pimple in my face. It leaves black mark which leaves me spotted like a giraffe after a few months of pimply periods.

There is the sleepiness. I want to sleep & sleep & sleep & sleep. not the regular 9-10hrs. I want 15-20hrs.

There is the occasional herpes attack. don’t judge me. All of us have Herpes virus in us. You know, the mouth sore when you have the horrible cold? THAT. IS. HERPES!

And then there is the hurting mammary glands. Rubbing my hand/arm on them while performing some other thoughtless result-less activity makes me screech with pain.

So I keep looking. And trying. And fixing. And buying. And reading. And now writing.

bras 3

And the checklists!

I have some favorites in my wardrobe. Nice colors. Beautiful lace.Wonderful cups. Fabrics that would make a queen pine. Silk. Cotton. Straps. Strapless. Brands. Brands whose names cost money without providing MORE support.

etc

Still, during these great days; when the uterus acts out in bloody anger after the realization that; yet again, no baby is going to come out of the poking fun & canoodling that has been going on week after week; every single one of my well selected bras make me grimace in pain.

I come home & before I open the door, I open the bra. And smile. And breath. And smile.

Shall I ever find this wonder bra that keeps them happy and calm through the stormy days?

When do I know I have found the bra?

We bought a bed though. Instead of a bra, we found a good comfy bed.

That should sort the back aches