NO, as a matter of fact, I am NOT on my period!
Why do they do it? Why do they always assume that it's that time of the month whenever we have a bad day or ask them to do something for the fifteenth time?
My husband calls it a moon-cycle. I think HE thinks it's funnier than saying PMS. Or maybe he thinks it won't piss me off quite as much if he lightens the mood of his insinuation? Who knows? HE KNOWS, that's who! He knows better than to assume I'm on my period just because I yelled at him for leaving another dish in the sink. "What's wrong with you, anyway?" he'll deliberately ask,"Are you on your moon cycle?"
Haven't they figured out by now that we don't need an excuse to box them into a corner? That, in all reality, it's usually them that put themselves there in the first place by not doing what we asked! It's simple math, really: If Sheila gives Billy two chores, and Billy (repeatedly) ignores them, Sheila is going to be frustrated. And the more often Billy refuses to do his little boy chores, the more pissed off Sheila is going to be! Ultimately, Sheila is going to lose her shit and take it out on Billy. And what is Billy going to do? He's going to blame it on her period. Because Billy... Is an idiot.
Here's where it gets tricky... Maybe our husbands aren't idiots after all? MAYBE it's all just an act to get us to think they're incapable, so that we'll end up doing it for them? Think about it. How often do you end up putting the dish in the dishwasher for him because you simply cannot stand looking at it for one more day?! Men are like slob superheroes... They have the ability to look right past a random shoe or a pile of dirty clothes and go about their business as if there was nothing there–even if it means stepping over things to avoid having to pick them up!
I've tried not to let my anal retentive behavior win the battle of pig versus filth, but it's simply not in my genes. I had a boyfriend come to my house one time who purposely moved all the handles on my coffee mugs one-tenth of an inch. He never said a word–he didn't have to. It only took me three minutes to recognize my misaligned beverage display; and I found him doubled over in a fit of hysteria, high-fiving himself in the hallway. We broke up after that.
So I guess the real message here isn't about PMS or OCD, it's about husbands who pretend that they forgot to do what was asked of them–and the women who love them. In the words of my six-year-old daughter, who is years beyond her age...
You get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit.
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