I had been happily spending my week with my girls, squeezing in all kinds of Spring Break fun when I was stopped dead in my tracks by... that time of the month. Awesome, and right on schedule of course because for the first time in 36 years I can set my watch to my cycle. You would think that I'd have it down on my calendar, but every month it surprises me. I'm sure that has more to do with disorganization than it does with my body chemistry. Whatever. That part is not important. The important part is that for the past year my PMS has gotten horribly out of control.
I get progressively bitchier as my period approaches. I'm so bloated I seriously look pregnant (editors note: we are going to go ahead and believe that the possible food baby is because of my period bloat, not because I've been eating recklessly). I get headaches that just won't stop, and my face breaks out in acne as if I'm seventeen again. Add in the fatigue and the anemia, the food cravings for things I cannot eat even if I wanted too, and I'm an awful person to be around, let alone live with. So yeah, by last Thursday I was just trying to keep it together so that I wouldn't ruin Spring Break and one of my only days off.
The day didn't go all that bad, except for the fact that I wanted chocolate. Like, all the chocolate that is currently on earth. I wanted to eat it and bathe in it, and have babies with it. It was terrible and only made worse by the fact that last week was the week I decided that I needed to start eating better. Let's talk about the fact that we, and by that I mean us ladies, always decided that a new diet and exercise regimen always sounds like the best idea we've ever had when we are on our periods. Why do we do this to ourselves when we know we have no will power and zero resistance to things like chocolate gellato and french fries?
By Thursday afternoon I was holding on for dear life, white knuckling it just to make it to bedtime. I'd snapped a few too many times at the kids, then started in on the Hubbs when he came home. I finally abandoned talking to anyone all together. The Hubbs kept asking what was wrong, and I kept saying nothing, because saying "I want to eat chocolate so bad I just might kill you", can be embarrassing and pathetic. I thought maybe I had made it when I realized that I still haven't picked up Mackenzie's birthday invitations that I had printed at Walgreen's. Now I could go on a tangent here about said birthday cards, but that is seriously an entire blog post on it's own so I'll keep you posted on that. But let's just say knowing that I had needed to pick those pictures/invitations up and get them in the mail since Monday, did something to me now that it was Thursday. And that something was not good.
I grabbed my bag and announced I'd be going to Walgreen's alone, and that I would be back as soon as I could get those damn pictures in my damn hands. I'm pretty sure that's a direct quote.
On the way, I yelled at every car that crossed my path. Then I yelled some more at the a-hole in the parking lot that took up two spaces in the crappiest car I've seen since college. Once inside Walgreen's I stood at the photo counter for a full five minutes while one associate stocked shelves and the other talked on the store phone nearby. Finally I had to say something to get some help, and even then there were issues with the computer, my card, the key pad. You name it, it was an issue.
I got back in my car, cussing and cursing under my breath when it hit me.
Bitch. Eat some cookies for the love of God. Eat all the cookies.
So I went home with a new resolve. I was going to bake some Against All Grain Chocolate Chip Cookies and eat as many as I wanted to. Three, in case you are wondering. I did this without guilt or feeling of failure. I took charge and granted myself permission to emotionally eat some cookies, for the sake of my sanity. For every one's sake. For the sake of my children and my husband. For the sake of drivers everywhere. For the sake of Walgreen's employees around the world. Ok, that's a tad bit dramatic, but seriously, I was in a bad, murderous, thank God I don't have any guns kind of way about cookies, chocolate chip cookies to be exact.
I'm sure this has something to do with menopause. Which I'm convinced I'm going through even if my doctors says I'm wrong. I remember when my mom went through the change that she said she wanted to eat anything that wasn't tied down or raw. I get that now and it scares the holy shit out of me. I am thankful that I have to be on a grain free, dairy free, processed food free diet for my health. This stops me from binge eating too much; one, because coconut milk ice cream is like twenty dollars a gallon, and two, cookies and cakes have to be baked by me. Now if I can just figure out how to talk myself out of baking things in my moments of weakness.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who has days where the temptation of all things chocolate get the better of me. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that I fight that temptation the best I can. And I'm pretty sure that I'm not the only one who has to check herself every once in a while and say...