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.

Flashy Pants, Flashy Pooch

They make diapers for dogs. I know this because, this past weekend, I bought them. It was probably one of the most embarrassing purchases I've made in the past year or so. Even more embarrassing than when I bought "Fun Betty" which is a cleverly packaged box of hair dye for your "down there hair". It wasn't that much fun - in case you're wondering. I bought hot pink and the entire process took an hour. The end result? My Betty looked a little bloody. Not as sexy as I had imagined, but I digress.

Dog diapers. Being the over protective mom of my fur kid that I am, I have a crazy mad fear of getting her fixed. I'm a nurse. I know the risks of major abdominal surgery on people. Let them take the knife to my poor, unsuspecting baby??? Never. So, once every 6 months, she gets a visit from her aunt flow.

I was out in Long Island, being a house guest of The Boy's all weekend and I did not want to have tiny drops of blood on his carpet, so I did what any other normal dog owner would do in my situation. I bought a pair of "Flashy Pants" ("for the bitch in season" read the insightful description on the box - and I ask: aren't we all?). Let's not forget the accompanying box of sanitary pads that fit inside the "washable undergarment". What the hell is it under?? The dog has fur! If anything, it's a over-garment.

This purchase was more embarrassing than the time I had to buy my own box of tampons for the first time. I was actually standing on line - in a PET store - with a box that clearly said "sanitary pads" on the front and sides. I felt like one of those sick people who paint their dog's toenails and parade them around in baby buggies.

The poor dog was so embarrassed in her Flashy Pants. She walked around with her butt to the floor the whole time. There's a ruffle on the end. Her tail peeks through. It was just a barrel of ridiculous. Not to mention the fact that she was accidentally let out in the backyard with her Flashy Pants still on. She had her first accident.

My dog wet her pants!!!

She could barely bring herself to play with the other dogs, so embarrassed was she.

Seriously, it must be love. True, unconditional, pet love. Because there I was, on the floor, the dog on her back, changing her diaper, assuring her that the accident was not her fault. She looked so confused. So fearful that her mommy had probably lost her mind.

I do have to say, though, those Flashy Pants do work. The carpet was spared. For the mere price of $15. And my dog's dignity.

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.