Friday, 22 November 2013

PMS Rage

This isn't some kind of feminism article, nor is it meant to empower the 'psycho menstruating woman' stereotype. This is simply a way for me to vent my hormonal furore without resorting to the verbal / physical abuse of another human being.

As I'm writing this, there's a little puppy standing in front of me. She refuses to move no matter how much her owners call her name and pull on her lead. I look up at the dog and don't even feel the urge to smile. Instead, I silently curse it for drawing the owner's attention to me. I'm sitting on a park bench dressed in all black including a wide brimmed hat and dark glasses. To my left is a black handbag. To my right, an open bottle of cider. If my open laptop and closed body language doesn't send caution signals to the world, the big 'fuck off' splashed across my face surely would.

While taking a small sip from my drink, I notice the soft afternoon sunlight beaming down from behind the trees. I realise that despite my best efforts, the world is still happy. I hear two girls chattering behind me as they walk. I imagine they're best friends who often exercise together, I bet they take turns encouraging each other on the afternoons they don't feel like walking. Even though I quite enjoy going for a run myself, the thought of these two being so supportive and healthy makes me sick.

I make a move to conceal my cider between myself and my bag as a police van drives behind me. In doing so, I notice the sun beams have dimmed. This makes me feel relieved. Then I hear the footsteps of heels behind me and see a lady with a pram. I instantly think of her as 'The Enemy'. The same goes for the guy running 100m lengths across the park. How dare he work hard towards goals and feel such motivation? Fucker. I bet he's going places in life. Some say I am as well. People tell me I have the world at my feet but I certainly don't feel like it today.

It's not a bad day, work actually went quite fast and I got to speak with my best friend. Sure, some things annoyed me throughout the day but that happens to everyone. Nothing in particular happened that would warrant such a bad mood. I do however, relish indulging my feelings to write this. Usually I try to stay calm and remind myself that my anger is caused by the hormones of my mensie. Not today though.

Oh crap, I just spotted the couple with the dog heading back towards me. How can they not have been scared off by my evil internal monologue? I hope to god they don't talk to me. “Fuck off dog, I don't care how cute you are” I think as it stares at me while strolling past, breathing in the fresh air.

The sun has now brightened again and is beaming happiness down on this inner city parkland. I look up to realise that among all the happy looking people chatting and exercising, it's me, the one hating everything that dares soak up it's warm embrace. Maybe there's hope for me yet. Ouch! By enjoying the sun's warm glow, I just hurt my eyes. I've been deceived by it's joyous rays. I guess everyone else was smart enough not to be drawn in by it's picture perfect happiness. Now I feel like a dumb arse.

While still reeling from the pain I lay my eyes on a sight so repulsive, I screw up my face in disgust. There's a couple dawdling across the park, holding hands and sharing the stories of their respective days. Eww. Beyond them is a couple with their baby in one of those chest carrier harness things. They're playing happy families... smiling, hugging and such. I've seen enough!

Then to the right, I see a girl sitting alone on a blanket. She's sitting cross legged, engrossed in whatever is on the screen of her laptop. I can't help but feel as though we're two females strangers, yet we are one and the same this afternoon. I imagine that she too, is experiencing the perils of the mensie. Realistically, this stranger could just be studying for an exam or updating her Facebook status. In my mind though, she's writing similar things to me and feeling as though she has an alien inside of her, clawing at her insides creating relentless paint and anger.

This is why girls often get along so well. We've all been there.

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