You'd never catch us craving a sour cream, onion, sausage and pickle sandwich until you, dear pre-period syndrome, decide to show up. Add to that the amount of chocolate our body seems to "need" when PMS'ing and we're left wondering how we manage to fit into our clothes before "Aunt Flow" comes to town.
Speaking of clothes fitting awkwardly, what is with the this-time-of-the-month belly bloat? Not even doctors know why it happens -- they just blame it on hormones. Not only does this symptom make us look like we're with child, it can actually be painful, causing cramps and making jean waistbands too tight. What's worse, the advice we're given to cope with such symptoms seems counterintuitive: Eat less salt (which given our propensity to crave chip sandwiches seems unrealistic); drink more water (um, hi .... already bloated woman over here!); and exercise (which brings us to our next point ...)
How are we supposed to exercise and move about when we feel like a beached whale and are more tired and cranky than we ever thought possible? Yes, we know our fluctuating hormones are to blame, but seriously? How is one supposed to force themselves to run or hit the gym in such a state? Don't even get us started on the trauma that is squeezing into Lycra gym clothes.
Obviously, since we aren't moving, crave only bad-for-us foods and are so water-logged we can't consume any more H20, there's another unpleasant side effect to PMS: Constipation. We can, seemingly, go days without a bowel movement (something that causes pain, cramping and even more bloating). The only thing that eases all this is time or eating lots of roughage foods like prunes -- neat, right?
After everything is said and done, dear PMS, this is by far the cruelest thing you do to us. Not that flatulence is a bad thing -- it's a normal part of life. But this kind of flatulence is something else altogether. At this time of the month, we can clear a room with a silent-but-deadly toot. And don't even get us started on how often we actually do it (the word non-stop doesn't seem to cut it). The worst part is there is zero way to stop or control this symptom. In the wise words of Twitter: Fail.
When all else fails, just accept it and laugh -- it's only one week out of the month.
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