I’ve been taking the progesterone for a bit over a week now. I’m bloated, achy, and crabby as hell! I feel mean. I wake up in a bad mood and I want to kick someone–or something. Good thing we don’t have a dog, right? I was in tears three different times yesterday. I need [more] chocolate and/or a blow to the head. Perhaps I could just be rendered unconscious until it’s over?

This is not fun. I know it’s necessary to go through this to regulate my hormones and hopefully have a “good bleed” to thin my uterine lining. I know this in my head and I’ll continue taking the $%^&* pills but THIS ISN’T ANY FUN. I guess I’m getting the payback for all the years of NOT having PMS when all my friends were miserable. Not having periods often made me feel like less of a woman but I didn’t miss not feeling–and acting–like a bitch on wheels.

I’m taking some other supplements which are supposed to mitigate some of the PMS symptoms. either they aren’t working or this I would be a whole lot scarier without them.

My poor husband has been doing that eggshell dance that men do when their women are PMSish He’s afraid to speak for fear of getting screamed at again. He wants to help, to offer comfort, to do “the right thing” but what exactly is “the right thing.” What was “the right thing” 5 minutes ago is ALL WRONG now and I CANNOT BELIEVE you would EVEN suggest it are you OUT OF YOUR MIND? In my lucid moments, I feel bad for for the guy, but even that knowledge will not stop me from screaming at him in an hour. HEY, I already feel bad about that so GET OFF MY BACK, Okay? Argh! I don’t seem to have any control over it. I feel like I’ve been invaded by very nasty little aliens or maybe that Chucky doll has taken over my brain? I’ve said “I’m sorry” about 500 times in the past two days. I’m sick of saying it and he’s probably sick of hearing it.

In other news, I have a doctor’s appointment today. Oh fun. This is with my family doctor. It’ll be 15 minutes–in and out. He’ll check my blood pressure which is sky-high right now ( I can tell from the ringing in my ears–even without checking it myself.) He’ll write refills and he’ll need to do some referrals for bloodwork for my annual physical. Oh, and I get to hear the results of my mammogram. I just realized I forgot to blog about that. D’oh.

Remind me to ask for copies of all the test results. Oh never mind. You won’t remember, you never remember. It’s all up to me. As usual. Crap.