CN and I were watching "Biggest Loser" last night. And he has definitely gotten me hooked on it. The good news is, watching it makes me want to go to the gym and work out to the point of passing out. The trainers are very motivational like that. The bad news is, although everyone on that show weighs more than I do, I feel like a total heifer when I watch it. I think it's because I can relate so much to the contestants' shame and disappointment with themselves and their eating choices. Exercise seems positive to me, whereas calorie restriction feels negative.
Sometime, during the show, I got a visit from the PMS Fairy. Or should I say....Demon.
Earlier in the evening, I tried to give CN a heads up. "Sweetie," I said. "Just so you know, it's my time. And I can tell already that I'm going to be really weepy, because I cried at a TV commercial today. So just keep that in mind for about the next week-- I may be acting kind of weird."
"Ok," he said, slightly shrugging.
Gotta love hindsight.
It should have gone like this:
VB: "For the next week, my brain and body will be taken over by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon. I advise you to stay in a hotel and make no contact with me until then."
CN: "Right. I'm out." *runs away as fast as he can*
I hate stupid hormones. Because for the next few days, Normal, Happy and Rational VB is abducted and tied to a chair in a basement somewhere. Her mouth is covered with duct tape. She is ignored, threatened and/or abused by The Evil Psycho Hormone Demon, who has managed to not only succeed with a hostile takeover, but is now Supreme Evil Dictator over my mind and body. She will not stop her rampage until everyone who encounters me this week is convinced that I have totally lost my mind.
And this month, she's being extra cruel and obnoxious. She has actually grown black horns, acquired an evil laugh and her eyes are now seeping blood. Imagine the devil from Rosemary's Baby, only in female form. I don't know what the hell I ate this month (I would like to blame all the salad and veggies, of course), but for some reason, the little gland in my body which controls my moods has set the dial all the way to the right, which reads "Bat Shit Crazy". It's that part of the dial where it's in the "red zone". And there is a little warning light which has turned on. It's blinking with a terrifying urgency. I encourage you to lock up your children.
Right now, if you were to glare at me, or even just stare at me, I would probably burst into tears. Then, 45 Kleenex later, after calming down, I would rip your throat out with my bare hands and stomp on your bloody body--while screaming-- until it is mashed into something resembling roadkill. And then I would start crying again.
Needless to say, I am not myself today. It feels eerily similar to what I imagine an out-of-body experience must be like. It's like I'm sitting in the driver's seat, but someone else is driving.
Based on this description, you would stay far, far away from me. And this would be a wise decision.
Unfortunately for CN, he was sitting on the couch, watching TV with me when all of this went down in the Hormones Department.
I'm not going to get into details, but let's just say that Evil Psycho Hormone Demon (EPHD) would not shut up about how fat I feel, which led CN to try and comfort and reassure me in a way that totally backfired right in his face, because no matter what he said or did, EPHD took his words and actions, twisted them into something completely different, and told me that CN was saying this:
"I don't like you anymore and I don't care about you."
You see? Do you see how evil and manipulative she is??? She is evil, I am telling you.
So that is how I went through half a box of Kleenex last night. That is why I had nightmares and woke up at 5:15 this morning. That is also why I just finished writing CN a very long, apologetic and explanatory email about how I am insane until further notice.
This sounds terrible, doesn't it? You are thinking, "Oh man, she needs to do some serious damage control." or, if you are a man, "Women are bat shit crazy."
But you are reading this entirely out of context. Let me explain. You see, as much of a wack job as I am right now, I am still totally golden.
By coincidence, CN recently told me a little bit more about his ex-girlfriend. I will call her Psycho Emily, because that is her name. (Tee hee.) When they were dating, CN had to take a business trip to Vermont for about a month. It was during the winter, and he was really enjoying the snow, so he invited her to come up and hang out one weekend.
They were standing in the kitchen of his hotel suite, talking. She was chopping veggies for dinner on a cutting board. That's when it happened: she proposed. Emily proposed marriage to CN. Because he is wise beyond his years, he thought to himself, "This girl has psycho tendencies. Perhaps getting married is not a good idea right now." But, because he is a man, and therefore, totally ignorant when it comes to female hormones, he made the unfortunate reply of:
Now, I couldn't possibly be sure about how Psycho Emily's EPHD interpreted his answer, but I bet it went something like this: "I do not care about you and I do not like you. I have been using you for sex this whole time, and you are an idiot if you thought that I ever gave a rat's ass about you. You are fat, ugly, crazy and stupid and I'd rather die poor, sick and alone than spend any more time with you than is absolutely necessary for me to get my rocks off."
Keep in mind that during the delivery of this interpretation, Psycho Emily is wielding a large kitchen knife.
So she did what any woman under the powers of her EPHD would do in that situation: She tried to stab him.
He managed to avoid the attack and get the knife away from her. That's when she ran outside. Into the snow. Barefoot. In nothing but her bra and a pair of jeans.
Where she proceeded to climb a tree and refused to come back down.
Surprisingly, they continued dating for a while after this whole fiasco.
So, my little meltdown last night? Not a big deal. CN has experienced The Mother of All Evil Psycho Hormone Demons, and lived to tell the tale. By now, he is a battle-worn veteran.
"I am a terrible girlfriend! I jumped to conclusions and expected you to read my mind!" I sobbed last night.
"Oh my God, no you're not! You're the best girlfriend I've ever had!" he said.
"I am?" I sniffed, voice quivering.
"Yeah. You don't even pull knives on me." he replied.