PMT - it's armless really

‘PMT it’s dynamite, PMT it’s dynamite’ are the lyrics AC/DC should have written (incidentally I’m going to see the legendary AccaDacca in February in Sydney). Every month I am gifted a day when it all feels a bit shit and I feel a bit grumpy, over sensitive, and highly emotional. If you happen to be an ex boyfriend of mine you’ll be nodding your head in acknowledgement. The weird thing is I always expect it but am surprised when it comes EVERY FUCKING MONTH. Then at the end of the day, a light blub suddenly turns on and I go, “oh yeah I must be pre-mental, I’m not really a psycho bitch after all”. I hate admitting the reason for my overly emotional outburst was due to PMT as it makes the issue I’ve been emoting over, seem trite and trivial. I’VE GOT A POINT YOU KNOW!!!!

Anyway, it’s not my fault. REALLY. DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT? The primary biological reason is the decreased progesterone levels before the mystical shedding of the lining – which amazingly is only a thimble full of blood – being a woman’s magazine journalist I know these sort of things and I’m not afraid to use them. If you’re getting all grossed out then remember it’s just the cycle of the life and that lining was once your first ever home and it’s a bloody miracle if you got to that prime real estate ahead of all of your spermy buddies as the chances of impregnation based on one sexual act per ovulation is 1 in 225 billion. That number escalate the more times your Mum and Dad shagged during each cycle. Sorry to put that image of your Mum and Dad shagging in your head on a Friday.

Speaking of cycles. I went for a bike ride around Bingara with a broken seat, which kept dipping backwards or falling completely off to the side. I had to ride past the pub where four local dudes where having a beer outside. It was hardly dignified as due to the angle of the seat exposing more crack than a fat beer bellied truckie in a pair of Stubbies pending over to pick up a penny. Then to add to my shame then seat fell off leaving just the pole – tre classy lady. I’m officially Bingara’s first ever pole dancer. As my reputation lies in tatters, I take comfort from Glenn’s neighbour who says in Bingara everyone knows what everybody is doing, and if they don’t they make it up.