Hot Mess Shark Week Rant

I want to eat everything in sight, though I secretly hope to lose my appetite so I can shed 5 lbs.

Why is it that ice cream is a woman’s go-to food during this troubling time? Of all things, our bodies crave a treat that will make us fat, when we feel like bloated whales for a week. Why can’t we crave apples or kale?

I truly feel that cramps are the punishment handed to us for Eve eating that apple. There can be no other explanation for this excruciating pain. Can you imagine shark week without them? I really would be running around with a smile on my face, wearing white jeans, and riding a horse ( similar to every lame tampon commercial on Earth).

I have never been in a fight, but I fear if someone tries me, I might just beat them to do death. If a dog barks at me sideways, I’m not sure what I’m capable of. I almost annihilated the mailman because he had the nerve to come and deliver a package the minute I went to the gym. I even contemplated chasing the truck down the street. What would have happened if I had caught up with him? Who knows. I wonder if any crime committed during this week will allow me to please temporary insanity due to my condition.

Speaking of the gym, I hear that working out helps ease the pain of symptoms, but who in the heeeeellll wants to go to Zumba class during Shark Week? I don’t feel like jumping up and down. I feel like hitting the hot tub, and let the warmth rush over my body. Except that I am not going ANYWHERE near a pool. You know some have the nerve to suggest that swimming is actually a really great way to reduce menstrual cramps?  Who suggested this?  A man? Do you know any woman who wants to work out in the first place, let alone swim some laps? Effing ridiculous.

I am in no mood to be lovey-dovey with anyone, but wait, YES I AM. I think this is great opportunity for me to text my buddy, and tell him how much I miss him. Ok, I just did. Why isn’t he texting me right back?! I knew I let him go for a reason. He is such a jerk. But he is sooo sexy, and oh look, who’s calling me nearly FIVE MINUTES later. The nerve. I’m not going to answer. I hate him.

Why does this always happen right before I’m supposed to do something fabulous, like go out of town or have a birthday?  It’s like a terrible chess game my body is trying to play with my mind. Oh you want to go D.C. for the weekend and wear skirts? Nooooo, you will be wearing sweatpants and loose jeans all week. You wanted to wear that new dress to your birthday brunch next week on the beach? Not up in here! You will be the only one wearing black yoga pants in 80-degree weather!



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