Science Belongs on TV

Last night, partially in celebration of the fact that I have a job interview-yeah!-and that I feel completely better except for being really bored and really scared about impending homelessness and/or starvation and possible careers in illegal avenues for a time (it's amazing what you don't concentrate on when you're thinking about a break-up...I'm kind of an idiot, right?) and because Frisk just really wanted a beer and for the summer she gets off early enough to have one, we went out. I say that like it's something new.

NOTE:We must sound like such lushes. We aren't. Really. Because if you use your brain, and I'm going to help you, if you get to the bar at 11, and last call is 11:45, you have time for maybe two pitchers of beer. And a pitcher is optimistically five beers, usually split between three or four people. So, in conclusion for the peanut gallery, we do not go out and get tootered every night.

Anyway, I was getting ready to go out, and I realized that something was very very off. Nothing was fitting. Even my old stand-bys felt wrong. Lucy was standing there waiting for me to get ready, quality bar time ticking away, and I start having one of those outer body experiences where I can look down and see myself throwing a fit like a two year old over what to wear to a bar that I've been to a bazillion times, and I just want to say to myself, "You're acting like a jerk," then the real me, who isn't looking down on myself, says, much to Lucy's confusion "I know I'm acting like a jerk!"

We all know what's going on here: it's the PMS monster. Something crazy happens to your body that you cannot control and although I'm sure that many, many, women have written about this, I'm going to do it too. Because not only is it funny because it HAS to be, but I've noticed that the closer I get to thirty, the more and more my body is trying to sabatoge my happiness.

I should be put in a lab and studied. I am a Science Experiment.

First, I am losing hair. I learned yesterday that this is due to surges of testosterone that can cause male hair growth-a.k.a. beards, mustaches, nipple hair (no, I do not have nipple hair), as well as male pattern baldness. While I have not noticed actual balding, I have noticed that my hair is always all over my bathroom. I'm hoping that this is just due to damage and not that it hates me and is making the choice to jump off my head. It would rather die than be attached to me. That's so depressing. Stupid hair.

Second, the boobies. I've lost a lot of weight recently, and I've come to accept that I'm never going to be a free-wheelin' A-Cup like I've always dreamed, but do they have to swell up a full cup size right before Aunt Flo shows up? Last night I reached down to pick a napkin up off the ground and one of them fell right out of my bra. Right. Out. I have no control over them. Not to mention that when I lay down now, they like to slip off over to the side a see what my armpits are doing. Hey, boobs, nothing interesting is going on in the armpit's except for aging, according to Dove, who now makes ANTI-AGING antiperspirant. I have it.

Then, we have my skin, which is simultaniously drying up and breaking out. I have more zits during PMS Magic Week than I ever did during puberty, but normally I am almost crackly I'm so dry. Then, before I know it, I wake up and I see my nose in the morning light, and it looks like an oil spill. How can I moisturize to combat the wrinkles that ARE happening and prevent the breakouts? Why do my legs hurt after I shave them? Why are my eyebrows extending farther and farther down my face?

Another point, in my defense, I'm allergic to exercise...it actually makes me cry and wheeze and hallucinate. But I mostly eat really healthy, and there is no reason why certain parts of me (weird belly shelf and arm wings) should not go away, when other parts of me (boobies and legs and face) dissappear very rapidly. Soon I will just look very disporportionate and malnourished. Teeny head, no chest, no legs, big arms, big belly...like I stepped in acid, basically.

The food cravings though, have to be the worst. The last few days I've been having total Rosemary's Baby moments. Of course I have no almost-raw steak available to me. So this is very fortunate. But when a craving takes over, there is no telling what you'll eat. Six tomatoes, eight potatoes, an entire jar of peanut butter, a pound of gummy bears, Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos with hummus...and for some reason, our stomachs can hold three times the normal amount. We can not get full, even though complete exhaustion overtakes us.

Of course, the relief is that once you realize why you are acting like a complete lunatic, everything sort of gets better. It makes sense to cry at the Dell commercial and yell at the mirror and drink salad dressing. So I just have to hold it down for a few more days.

Love to my sisters.