Are you there God? It’s me, Allyson. I’m writing this letter to you because according to many books I have read, you are the creator of PMS. I know it was in response to an taboo apple eating incident, but I feel like this punishment has gone on long enough.
Did you ever stop and think that maybe Eve was hungry? With all that pressure of creation and dealing with Adam and his issues, maybe she was just stress eating?
Now I walk around so sad and mad and hungry every month for at least a week. I question everything and everyone. I gain 5 pounds, fight with everyone I know, and cry at every commercial that features a newborn or a puppy.
I wonder if my kids will go to a McDonalds when they are older, and that the whiff of those fries will be the only cooking smell that will remind them of me. I’m not sure how to feel about Woody Allen, and I really miss Scandal and wonder when it’s coming back.
I worry about Justin Bieber and hope he’s going to be ok but then I remember I had a huge party at my parents house when I was his age and someone threw up on our new carpet and I used vinegar to clean it up which made much worse and I got in a lot of trouble but I turned out ok. So I think he will too.
I feel bad that I don’t know what years my parents were born in. It makes me sad that my main goal in keeping my house clean is that if we get robbed and the police report says things were thrown all over the house, I won’t have to commit perjury and blame it on the burglars to save face.
I worry that my 5 year olds’ Star of the Week poster won’t be perfect. Because it HAS to be perfect. Then I worry he’ll tell the class about the new family Mommy says he’s going to soon if he doesn’t start behaving nicely. He knows who they are because I drive him by their house in a run down shack downtown and show him where he will be living. That’s our version of show and tell.
I get mad at street signs telling me to slow down in school zones when the kids are clearly in class. What are they worried about? That they will all suddenly bolt out of school at 10 am into traffic? And if so, shouldn’t they be guarding the doors and not the streets?
I wonder what a Spiritual Gangster is and how I can become one. I think about how I love my Keuerig coffee maker so much. I daydream about it and how I get so excited when I see it in the morning.
I hate people who wear shirts that say “Kayla’s Mom” or “Amy’s Dad.”
Really? That’s what you choose to wear on your body? I won’t even wear necklaces with my kids’ names or initials. I feel like they strangle me enough metaphorically. I don’t need to have them literally hanging on my neck all day long as decoration.
I am confused why I still have to recite “beer before liquor never sicker” to remember the correct drinking order. Same goes for “30 days have September” and the little map I have to draw to remember north south east and west. What’s wrong with me that I don’t know this by now?
I think people have gotten meaner lately and that there are a lot more crazy people around than I remember. Everyone on the road seems mad at each other for no reason: constantly throwing their hands up in crazy gestures. Business owners don’t care about customer service and everyone seems to be less and less interested in connecting with the outside world.
PMS: I don’t mean to blame you for this, but lets face it, it’s all your fault. You turn me into a crazed angry hungry pimple faces werewolf every month. I feel like The Hulk, or Teen Wolf.
But then it ends and I go back to enjoying life and skipping through the tulips and singing songs about sunshine.
Ahhhh fuck it that’s not true. I love PMS. It gives me an excuse to be who I really am and say exactly what I really think. The rest of the month is the real bullshit. So thank you Eve. Hope the apple was delicious. I personally like mine sliced with peanut butter, caramel, chocolate chips and sprinkles. The chocolate is key.