I’m over my PMS.
That’s the main problem with perimenopause: When I had actual cycles, I could predict the point at which temporary insanity would descend upon me. Now I freak out first, and find out why afterward.
Of course, that just makes me more interesting, colorful, and fun to be around. (Read: a total cunt. That happens to be my own version of the Marabel Morgan approach: a lot less sugar, a lot more spice.)
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