And this is part 2 of my Week in the Life of A Crazy Woman…
Read on, but only if you’re woman enough to take it…or if you’re a man and no one can see your computer screen.
I am all of the aforementioned Dwarfs today. It makes for a bad 24 hours when I am all of dwarfs on the same day.
I didn’t sleep again last night due in great part to my “condition”.
Very sure by mid-day that starting Weight Watcher’s at the same time of the month that my hormones are sending assassins to try to kill me wasn’t a good idea. My mood convulsions have run the gambit. I’ve wept uncontrollably. I’ve screamed at the top of my lungs at no one. I’ve gotten confused and lost . Twice. And I was simply driving 45 minutes from my house to Stone Mountain Park and back. I’ve driven this route a half million times. I really shouldn’t need Money-Penny. (My GPS, we call her Money Penny.) But I did need her. I needed her because I got a little confused. I wonder if I’m having TSA’s? Or is it TIA’s? (The Husband read this and didn’t know what these initials meant … one is a mini-stroke and one, I think, has something to do with transportation.)
I’ve managed to stay UNDER my Weight Watcher’s points for 2 days but today I would give up my first born for a chocolate cake. (Sorry Bethany.)Yes, a cake. But wait, let me be more specific…a yellow cake with chocolate fudge frosting… yes, yes I would. Today, it feels like an even trade. Today, I totally understand that dude in the Bible who traded his birth-right for a bowl of stew. (Although stew doesn’t interest me in the least, like I said I want cake.) I find myself thinking of him a lot today, that hungry guy in the Bible and I’m wondering if somehow he was going through menopause at the time…
It’s bedtime. My skin is crawling and I’m on edge. I’d like to scream at and slap something. It’s not the Weight Watcher’s it’s the hormones. But knowing that doesn’t help me at all. How very unfortunate that my go-to stress relief is baking and right now I can not bake…I tell ‘myself’ to find another form of stress relief.
‘Myself’ said something back that I can not repeat.
To Be Continued…come back tomorrow to see how long I can go without grooming.