This is cross posted to several communities and my own personal journal.
My friend's eleven days late. Today we were talking about writing a zine called Where's My Period Already?. It would deal with PMS issues, the myths and whatnot regarding menstruation, and would feature work written by us when we're PMSing. It would be the ultimate work of art: paranoia, frustration, absent-mindedness, physical disorders, hormonal imbalance, identity crises and mood swings and the whole lot. Take this month for example.
Four days ago I went on a chocolate binge (after three weeks of extreme, zero-carbs Atkins) till I overdosed and went from bordering on a fever to practically hallucinating, it was such a rush. In the few days since, I've been trying to jump back on the Atkins wagon while the syndrome got worse and worse.
Every morning I leave my place five to ten minutes earlier than I really have to, and sit in the lobby of a building right next to my bus pick-up point to have a cigarette (and sometimes, some coffee). This morning I had decaf Nescafe with Coffee Mate and no sugar/sweetner, coupled with my regular Lucky Strike. I got unbelievably dizzy and couldn't coordinate myself much. My head felt heavy and light at the same time and I felt numb and frail and tingly somehow all at once. Afterwards, when crossing the road to my pick-up point, I saw my life flash before my eyes as a truck zoomed by, two centimeters away from my skin. I'm normally pretty absent minded and slow with crossing roads, so coupled with that evil morning cigarette and my PMS it's not a pretty idea to leave me alone on the road!
Sitting in Sociology class today, fully aware that I'd just gotten my period (I was doubled over in paralysing pain) and had no pads, I can feel the only guy in the class sitting behind me and breathing down my neck. This guy's been into me since the first day of Sociology and he makes a point of sitting as near to me as possible during class, and constantly asking for help. I'm chewing on my lip and entertaining the idea of a crimson stain spreading all over my backside. Naturally the idea sends me into tears but just this once I wonder how legendary it would be if it happened and that guy dropped Sociology the next morning.
On the bus home from school today, I got beyond drowsy and dozed off (though in that 'buzzy' way, where you're awake but not really conscious). Just as the bus came to an abrupt halt at a traffic light, I snapped out of the 'aura' I felt I was in and my head toppled forward on my neck. I thought it was my stop and scrambled up, gathering my backpack and jumper (now pulled tightly around my hips; thank goodness for black cotton when you need it). The driver glanced at me, and I glanced at the shut door. He figured I wanted to get off at an earlier spot and pulled the lever impatiently. I jumped off and took about ten minutes to register my surroundings. When I finally realized what had happened and started walking the hundred or so yards to my building, I decided I wanted a smoke. I walked into this cave-like crevice meant as a private parking space in one of the new buildings in the area. I lit up, and almost immediately my vision got hazy and I had to sit down on the ground. I felt numb and still, like I couldn't walk or coordinate any activity.
I slept for what seemed like ten hours, and when I woke up I felt like I was being stabbed repeatedly by sharp knives placed on the circumference of my abdominal region. I had supper and checked my e-mail. I drank ice cold club soda straight after. Bad, BAD idea. Cold stuff slows down the blood flow, making it even more difficult for the tissue to leave my body, thus amplifying the pain to beyond agonizing proportions. After about an hour of moaning, groaning and cursing everything, I felt a fever burning up and flicked on the AC. I made myself a cup of decaf and I'm having it with one of those Atkins-approved chocolates that allegedly carry only one or two net carbs.
I feel like if I could just saw off the lower part of my torso I can breathe normally again.