I love my body and I’m in touch with my beautiful lady-flower and all that. But the few days of the month that I’ve got PMS are hellacious. Yep, it really blows. I turn into a complete stereotype and it’s just embarrassing: chocolate cravings, tears, not fitting into my skinny jeans, the whole nine yards.
We all know the menfolk in our lives generally can’t relate to this drama. Lucky for me, my dad raised four daughters, so he knew to pick up chocolate ice cream and tampons at the grocery store and then disappear into the TV room until the storm blew over. But if the guy in your life is clueless, it’s time to read him your PMS Bill Of Rights—before he eats the last Haagen-Dazs bar and you read him the riot act instead.
- You have the right to all the sexytime behavior that occurs when you’re not surfing the red tide (provided you are still interested in it).
- You have the right to first dibs on all chocolate-y foodstuffs that can be found on the premises, including anything which may need to be pulled out of the back of the freezer and thawed.
- You have the right to at least one incident, per period, of weeping over something which is actually quite minor, without too many questions being asked and without being admonished that “you’re overreacting.”
- You have the right to request one late-night Midol and/or Ben & Jerry’s errand, per every six months.
- You have the right to exaggerate the effects of your cramps in order to get out of any of the following events: movies you don’t want to see, family parties, social events with people you don’t like, obligatory work functions.
- You have the right to shriek in foul language before 8 a.m. when you discover you just ruined those new pajama bottoms and your sheets last night.
- You have the right to cold-heartedly rebuff all sexual advances during those days you just feel bloated, crampy and disgusting.
- You have the right to eschew cute pajamas for up to a week because your softest, smelliest sweatpants are the only thing you feel like wearing right now.
- You have the right to request a tampon pickup on his drive home from the office.
- You have the right to indulge in a slightly distorted body image due to bloating and the right to be told, “Aw, it’s just your period, honey. You always look great!” when you complain that you feel like a whale.
- You have the right to panic that your belly is swelling up because you’re pregnant (even though you’re on the Pill and you use condoms, too).
- You have the right to hog the bathroom because your lady-stuff has clogged the toilet (provided you are cleaning it up yourself like a grownup).
- You have the right to lie to yourself and pretend your boobs look this fabulous all the time.
- You have the right to request foot rubs, shoulder rubs or hot water bottles.
- You have the right to order takeout from the diner across the street because you’re too lazy/uncomfortable to walk there.
- You have the right to be pretty damn sure you’re not ready to get pregnant yet if you can barely handle PMS.