Scrolling through the tinternet, yesterday, I came across a discussion about period cramps and how the pain associated with them has been compared to that of a heart attack – no shit, Sherlock.
When I finished reading I realised that because I am truly outnumbered by males in this house – and the fact that two of those are children and one is a dog, who therefore couldn’t care less that I feel like I’m dying a slow and excruciating death – I decided it was about time that I put together a handy guide for those of you who are living with women and need help during this precarious time.
Why, yes! I am referring to my husband in this bracket, because apparently being together for 12 years isn’t long enough for him to pick up on my subtle clues that during this ‘special’ time I morph into an unpredictable bitch and he should probably back off for a few hours, or I may stab him repeatedly with a very blunt butter knife.
I make no apology for this completely natural event or what my overdramatic uterus may ‘make’ me do, I just want to be able to hand him this post when he seriously thinks it’s ‘hilarious’ to make jokes about anything PMS related.
How to calm down a completely fictitious woman who in no way resembles me during her period:
Step 1: Always have a hot water bottle to hand; you know like the one she asked for YESTERDAY and you didn’t bring when she was doubled over in heart-attack-level pain? Just a thought, this isn’t a direct example of what happened in my house yesterday. This is all based on a fictitious woman – let’s call her: Splizabeth.
Step 2: It may be safer for you to wear a few extra layers over the next couple of days in case she accidentally throws objects – like a child or a laptop – in frustration in your general direction at the lack of hot water bottle.
Step 3: Make sure there’s chocolate to hand. Unless your wife has recently gone vegan and the only alternative is (frankly disgusting) dark chocolate. By all means hand her the dark chocolate if you want, but be prepared for her rant back at you about how it tastes like the devil’s ass and how you’re a disgusting human being for even thinking she’d want to eat it.
Step 4: Leave the chocolate, I – sorry, I mean Splizabeth– will eventually eat it in desperation.
Step 5: Try not to breathe in her general direction because even knowing you’re alive and not in pain is a bit of an annoyance.
Step 6: Don’t let her watch horror movies, it genuinely may give her ideas. It might be safer just to take the remote off her when she starts sentences like: ‘Now, if I were to murder you I wouldn’t do it like that. Firstly I would…’
Step 7: Just take the kids and the dog and leave her alone for a few hours / days and let her get on with things. Be warned: at any given moment her unpredictable mood may mean she wants to be around her family because she loves you all. Don’t worry, it won’t last long. Probably only until someone breathes on her, so don’t fall for it. Just send a picture and look miserable. That will keep Splizabeth happy.
Now, you’re all set for next month and the month after that and so on because unfortunately my her uterus plans on being dramatic for a few more years before she meets the whole new hormonal shit-storm that is menopause.