Putting the Moan in Hormones

Have odd and strained day at work and wonder if it is possible to get road rage in a car dealership.

Good news is however that notice was seen and accepted and I therefore only have a further six days of this insanity to get through this year.

New showroom furniture arrives and spend afternoon rearranging it to boss's satisfaction .... several times. Entire exercise constrained by addition of extra chairs to lounge space and my expressed preference to be able to access the coffee machine without swinging from roof beams like Tarzan. Compromise eventually achieved but am aware will all have been rearranged to liking of insane work colleague Princess Brandname by the time I return next week.

Further irritation arises when I go to dispose of packaging from furniture only to be told that empty boxes outside back door now need to go in skip. I express doubts as to existence of skip having hitherto been completely unaware of any such facility, only to be told by superior salesman that There Is Always A Skip If I Would But Think Outside The Box. He apparently remains oblivious both to the expression on my face and to the hush falling on those listening to the conversation and goes onto say that I should take things more seriously as he did once have an accident involving an empty box.

He is unamused by my response that he is coming very close to having another one.

I am unable to tell if he is being brave or merely stupid. I am quite clearly hormonal - all the signs are there- the skull and crossbones on my forehead, the 10 packets of chocolate I am chain-munching my way through and the trail of severed limbs in my wake should all be clues, but he still thinks today is a good day to wind me up and then looks hurt when I snarl at him.

This to me has all the fairness of jumping stark b*llock naked into a tigers cage except for a small loin cloth cunningly fashioned from raw sirloin, and then complaining when the tiger chews your nads off.

It seems however that I am not the only woman who gets a tad strained at this time of the month. My friend Alice sent me this and it seems the right time to share:

Allegedly this is a REAL letter to Always - I'd love to think so .....

Dear Mr. Thatcher,

I have been a loyal user of your Always maxi pads for over 20 years and I appreciate many of their features. Why, without the Leak Guard Core(tm) or Dri-Weave(tm) absorbency, I'd probably never go horseback riding or salsa dancing, and I'd certainly steer clear of running up and down the beach in tight, white shorts. But my favorite feature has to be your revolutionary Flexi-Wings. Kudos on being the only company smart enough to realize how crucial it is that maxi pads be aerodynamic. I can't tell you how safe and secure I feel each month knowing there's a little F-16 in my pants.

Have you ever had a menstrual period, Mr. Thatcher? Ever suffered from "the curse"? I'm guessing you haven't. Well, my "time of the month" is starting right now. As I type, I can already feel hormonal forces violently surging through my body. Just a few minutes from now, my body will adjust and I'll be transformed into what my husband likes to call "an inbred hillbilly with knife skills." Isn't the human body amazing?


As Brand Manager in the Feminine-hygiene Division, you've no doubt seen quite a bit of research on what exactly happens during your customers' monthly visits from "Aunt Flo". Therefore, you must know about the bloating, puffiness, and cramping we endure, and about our intense mood swings, crying jags, and out-of-control behaviour. You surely realize it's a tough time for most women. In fact, only last week, my friend Jennifer fought the violent urge to shove her boyfriend's testicles into a George Foreman Grill just because he told her he thought Grey's Anatomy was written by drunken chimps. Crazy! The point is, sir, you of all people must realize that America is just crawling with homicidal maniacs in Capri pants... which brings me to the reason for my letter.

Last month, while in the throes of cramping so painful I wanted to reach inside my body and yank out my uterus, I opened an Always maxi-pad, and there, printed on the adhesive backing, were these words: "Have a Happy Period." Are you fuc * ing kidding me? What I mean is, does any part of your tiny middle-manager brain really think happiness - actual smiling, laughing happiness is possible during a menstrual period? Did anything mentioned above sound the least bit pleasurable? Well, did it, James? FYI, unless you're some kind of sick S&M freak girl, there will never be anything "happy" about a day in which you have to jack yourself up on Motrin and Kahlua and lock yourself in your house just so you don't march down to the local Walgreen's armed with a hunting rifle and a sketchy plan to end your life in a blaze of glory. For the love of God, pull your head out, man! If you just have to slap a moronic message on a maxi pad, wouldn't it make more sense to say something that's actually pertinent, like "Put Down the Hammer" or "Vehicular Manslaughter Is Wrong", or are you just picking on us?

Sir, please inform your Accounting Department that, effective immediately, there will be an $8 drop in monthly profits, for have chosen to take my maxi-pad business elsewhere. And though I will certainly miss your Flex-Wings, I will not for one minute miss your brand of condescending bull sh*t. And that's a promise I will keep.

Always.

Best,
Wendi Aarons, Austin, TX