Its coming.
I can feel it.
The troops are amassing in my ovaries and plotting their strategic slide down the tubes of Fallopian.
It has already reared its ugly head.
The knee-jerk weeping, the super sense of smell, the high libido...
The PMS monster is growing inside of me. There is little I can do about it but to observe, know when to step in and be a referee. I can hear the march of her army.
Note to self: for the next 7 days, stay in a padded cell, eat lots of chocolate, salt and vinegar chips, watch alot of Flintstones episodes and have a huge supply of Clearasil. Must steer clear of sharp objects, ledges and cliffs, wear a full padded body crash suit and most important - extricate myself from any and all situations where I might be caught off guard.
I can become defenseless and can be destroyed in a single monosyllabic swipe of an offhand comment or a comment not spoken but anticipated.
Hopefully, I will come out alive and in one piece...
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