Flo

So Flo came to town. The painters are in. Its red flag day. I'm 'on.' Time of the month. Or personal favourite 'On the blob.' And boy can I feel it. Yesterday: tired, chest aching, the feeling of impending doom. Inability to get anything of note done as lethargy claims me. Jeans too tight. Today - a black cloud stalks my every step and regardless of the gales blustering outside, it refuses to be blown away. Nothing feels right. I worry endlessly: about will the damn flat sell? Will we get the mortgages we need? Will I get work in the next 6 weeks? What will I do if I don't? How will we ever cope? My glass feels not even half empty - it feels bone dry. Nothing raises a drop of hope in my dampened spirits. I crave comfort - soft clothing, dark rooms, blankets, tea and sweet treats. I feel vulnerable, exposed. The husband calls me 'needy' and notes this occurs every time its a red letter day, on day 1. Day 2 I resemble a human again. Day 3 and I fit my jeans again and my sense of humor returns. Normally I visit St. Mary (my acupuncturist) to prick me with needles and wrap my spirit in an internal comfort blanket so I float out her doors, oozing loving feelings and contentment. But she costs £45 a pop, or prick, so I haven't worhsipped at her altar for quite a while. Only sugar seems to ease my frustration. I am sure I should be exercising, drinking wheatgrass and meditating my way through PMT - but who the feck wants to do that when a cupcake is screaming EAT ME from starbucks seductive counter? It's soft creamy frosting curling round the fluffy sponge with flecks of sugared lemon rind decorating the top. Perfection. So I did what a wounded animal does - I hid away. I snuck off to a chick flick with said tea and cupcake then came home with soft furnishing magazines and lay on the sofa, comfort blanket wrapped round me. One minute I snapped husband's head off, next I burrowed under his arm demanding that he love me more and that he drowns me in affection. Why he puts up with this insane bi-polar freak every month lord only knows. There is great TV tonight, so I must away from the blog - even if the laptop is warming my bloated stomach nicely. Hopefully Flo will bugger off sharpish in about 4 days. Until then, pass the cakes....