Let's talk about PMS
I like to consider myself a lady. I like dresses and curling irons. I hate when boys fart. I don't even like using the word "fart." (Can't say it out loud at all!) I cross my legs like a lady. And I've always tried to have discretion with what I talk about in mixed company. My girlfriends know that I have no qualms about talking about all kinds of things when we are alone, but in mixed company, I consider myself to be pretty careful. Until today. It's time to educate folks on an epidemic that plagues 100% of women.
PMS
Let me define it for you.
PMS - noun \ˌpē-(ˌ)em-ˈes\, first used in 1976, also known as
1. Pass My Shotgun
2. Psychotic Mood Shift
3. Perpetual Munching Spree
4. Puffy Mid-Section
5. People Make me Sick
6. Provide Me with Sweets
7. Pardon My Sobbing
8. Pimples May Surface
9. Pass My Sweatpants
10.Potential Murder Suspect (my personal favorite)
PMS accosts the sweetest, kindest, most innocent women and they suddenly find themselves to be dangerous, ugly monsters capable of raging attacks on innocent or guilty bystanders. Not that I am one of those, of course!
I think the uncomfortable, sometimes incapacitating, bodily pain associated with PMS is God's blessing in disguise as it forces you to bedrest where your claws can safely sleep and not harm anyone else.
I also think women stricken with PMS should not drive, go out in public, talk on the phone, or communicate with anyone until it passes. It seems as though our nuisance detector severely malfunctions during these bouts. Whereas a clicking pen might have been a nuisance yesterday, suddenly you find yourself feeling a boiling rage today.
PMS tempts us with countless opportunities to sin! Rage, frustration, irritability, impatience, rage, complaining, bitterness, resentment, complaining, rage...we have this endless cycle of out-of-control negative feelings, right? Of course, none of this applies to me. I'm simply writing this for all of YOU. Thank goodness we have Jesus to be our patience, joy, self-control, and kindness, but wanting Him to give us those things is really, really hard on these days in particular.
I haven't even talked about the insatiable hunger, endless snacking, tight clothes, and swollen-beached-whale-bloating yet!
Can we talk about something else? Go with me on this hypothetical-but-probably-true for-somebody-situation. How awkward is it, in your workplace, when you are keeled over at your desk because your uterus it turning itself inside out, you have that hot-cold feeling which has drained the color from your face, you just want to curl up on the bathroom floor, and you are shaking from the caffeine in your Midol that STILL has not kicked in when your (male) boss walks up. "What's up with you," he says. "Um, I really don't feel good." "What are you sick with?" Okay, really?? If you are a man, don't you ever, EVER ask a woman that question. You are a dummy if you do! Just assume that women feel like CRAP everytime you need a car wash. If it's time to wash your car, there's a woman somewhere keeled over at her desk vowing not to deliver a child if labor is going to be anything like this and begging Jesus to come back.
PMS
Let me define it for you.
PMS - noun \ˌpē-(ˌ)em-ˈes\, first used in 1976, also known as
1. Pass My Shotgun
2. Psychotic Mood Shift
3. Perpetual Munching Spree
4. Puffy Mid-Section
5. People Make me Sick
6. Provide Me with Sweets
7. Pardon My Sobbing
8. Pimples May Surface
9. Pass My Sweatpants
10.Potential Murder Suspect (my personal favorite)
PMS accosts the sweetest, kindest, most innocent women and they suddenly find themselves to be dangerous, ugly monsters capable of raging attacks on innocent or guilty bystanders. Not that I am one of those, of course!
I think the uncomfortable, sometimes incapacitating, bodily pain associated with PMS is God's blessing in disguise as it forces you to bedrest where your claws can safely sleep and not harm anyone else.
I also think women stricken with PMS should not drive, go out in public, talk on the phone, or communicate with anyone until it passes. It seems as though our nuisance detector severely malfunctions during these bouts. Whereas a clicking pen might have been a nuisance yesterday, suddenly you find yourself feeling a boiling rage today.
PMS tempts us with countless opportunities to sin! Rage, frustration, irritability, impatience, rage, complaining, bitterness, resentment, complaining, rage...we have this endless cycle of out-of-control negative feelings, right? Of course, none of this applies to me. I'm simply writing this for all of YOU. Thank goodness we have Jesus to be our patience, joy, self-control, and kindness, but wanting Him to give us those things is really, really hard on these days in particular.
I haven't even talked about the insatiable hunger, endless snacking, tight clothes, and swollen-beached-whale-bloating yet!
Can we talk about something else? Go with me on this hypothetical-but-probably-true for-somebody-situation. How awkward is it, in your workplace, when you are keeled over at your desk because your uterus it turning itself inside out, you have that hot-cold feeling which has drained the color from your face, you just want to curl up on the bathroom floor, and you are shaking from the caffeine in your Midol that STILL has not kicked in when your (male) boss walks up. "What's up with you," he says. "Um, I really don't feel good." "What are you sick with?" Okay, really?? If you are a man, don't you ever, EVER ask a woman that question. You are a dummy if you do! Just assume that women feel like CRAP everytime you need a car wash. If it's time to wash your car, there's a woman somewhere keeled over at her desk vowing not to deliver a child if labor is going to be anything like this and begging Jesus to come back.
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