This is pretty much how I've been feeling this week. Snappy and hormonal enough to bite your face off but too lazy to get up off the floor and do it.
Why, you ask?
Well, let me tell you about my little visitor named TOM. (see boys, I told you) Like most women, I get the pleasure of his company once a month. He stops by for about a week, makes me eat cake, yell at MB for no reason, cry at commercials and throw things at the neighbors. All in all, a nice little visit.
This month, TOMmy boy decided to stop by for a second visit. That's right. About a week after his regular visit, he decided to drop in, quite unexpectedly, for another week long visit.
Of course, I have been in panic mode trying to figure out what's going on. This has only happened one other time in all my womanhood. My obgyn just said it was because I missed a couple days of my bc. Whatever. It didn't happen again so I figured she was right.
Until now. Now I fully believe that she is a quack. Clearly there is more going on here.
I'm starting to think that MB was right about the whole pod thing. My body must be rejecting the alien life form that had briefly taken over, resulting in the expulsion of...well, you get the idea. I'll spare you the graphic imagery.
The only other explanation is early menopause. Which means that I will now have to wear slacks and stop dying my hair. Because what's the point?
The problem is that polyester makes me itchy and I'm not ready to be a silver hair. I'm not even thin yet. I can't be an overweight silver hair. I at least want the chance to be a cougar. What's wrong with that?
I'm on the last day of my little friend's second visit and I'm hoping he stays out until next month. If he doesn't, I may end up in bed for a week with a bag of cheetos and a few pints of ice cream.
But I refuse to stop dying my hair. I may become a fat snuggie wearing recluse, but I'll have gorgeous hair. I've got to hold on to something.