Yaz is for suckers...

The makers of Yaz promise PMS side effects will affect me no more. They promise less bloating, less hunger, less oh-my-god-the-world-is-ending anxiety attacks. They promise all of this PLUS shorter periods. "Sign me up", I said.

Well, it's been and a month and I see no change. Here I am, in the midst of PMS. I want to eat chocolate, I want to cry, I want it to rain so I can justify this cloud I'm living under. I want to press fast foward and get on with it because I am having the stupid anxiety attacks again. The one where I will never make any money and am destined to live in a studio apartment for the rest of my life.

The way I've begun to deal with this anxiety is by simply acknowledging the fact that this is all brought on by hormones. I know, logically, the world won't end. I know, eventually I will make enough money to have a savings. But it would really really help if Yaz were to hold up their end of the freakin bargin.

Bastards.

Hold tight and never let go (at least not until i say so)

I hate the fact that I still get a bit anxious from time to time.  For no logical reasons.  When I was a teenager, I used to get anxiety attacks all the time.  I was incapable of eating due to the fact that my stomach was in knots all the time and as a result my mom presented me with pamphlets about eating disorders.  

These days, my anxiety attacks aren't as dramatic.  I still get the knots in the stomach, but trust me there ain't nobody accusing me of any eating disorders.  It seems to happen when I'm the most hormonal.  

The people closest to me are affected most by this.  Diana, one of my best friends, gets to hear me lament about all my fears in the world, The Boy gets accused of not loving me enough (which even now as I write seems absolutely absurd).  Even my dog gets extra mushing because she has that Golden Retriever calming way.

Today the pooch is in Long Island with The Boy.  He came over this morning after work just as I was coming home so we could snooze a bit together.  When he woke up and said he had to go I actually asked him if he was mad at me.

I did nothing wrong of course, I was just being menstrual and needy and couldn't understand why he would want to leave after just sleeping.  Although that was the plan all along and in retrospect it made sense.  He picked up the dog, took her to the Island and I will see them this weekend.  It was actually sweet that he drove so far for so little an amount of time.  (Yes I do appreciate the little things - it's my ovaries that generate such silly thoughts).

I understand why guys think girls are crazy.  But to the defense of the female sex, we spend most of our lives "pulling it together".  For work, for our even more needy friends, for our nosey family and for the strangers we meet.  We give birth and have periods and we age a little less graceful without the use of plastic surgery.  So if we actually have the luck of being comfortable enough with our "other halves" to ask for a little extra luvin, I think the monthly surge of hormones should be excused.

Just a thought.  

Words....

Even on my best days, there are times that my nemesis Anxious and her sister Insecure come to visit.  And while you've done wonders to placate my fears, nothing can stop them once they're inside.  When you say "forever", they whisper that "forever" is pretty vague.  They want hard proof.  A date, a limb, a shared lease at least.  I assure you they aren't who I am anymore.  But sometimes the past comes back unannounced.  And I'm helpless to accommodate.

You've done wonders to calm most fears though.  I know I'm safest when I'm asleep in your arms.  I know you mean words like "gorgeous", "never" and "forever".  I know you are one of those rare souls that were born minus the deceit gene.  And I love you for that.  

Sometimes I resist.  And you putter on through.  You fight my pig-headedness and you prove over and over again that you are not any of the "thems".

Today was one of those days.  I felt Anxious knocking again.  She wanted to remind me that you're still there while I sleep.  Insecure reminded me of the five pounds I swore I'd lose by now.  Sometimes I want to beat them out of me.  But how do I beat up myself?  I mean, don't I do that enough?  So I try to come up with concrete evidence to the contrary.  And I win in small defeats.

I get better everyday.  I believe the "I love you" and I am getting very used to "forever" (sometimes you add two "evers" and I know you mean business).