I quietly sat in the corner, wanting to die. Around me people were dancing, the wine was flowing – the party was in a full swing. I wanted to cry, for no reason whatsoever; I wanted be at home under the duvet and not amongst crowds of people.
She pulled a chair up and sat next to me; she knew exactly what I was going through. We chatted and I felt better. She got her phone out and let me read her latest creation. I immediately asked if I could publish it, she said yes…
So without further ado, let me introduce our guest today - the talented poetess and a fabulous girl, Lesley Overland. Her poem very accurately describes what PMT actually feels like for a girl. Boys, read carefully, this might explain a lot.
PMT guide for men
We're feeling kinda tetchy but still have some restraint.A wise time not to bother us with your mundane complaints.
Good practice to put your shoes away and retrieve stuff from the floor.
We're feeling inconsequential and not valued anymore.
We're not so pleased to see you when you walk in through the door.
The way you eat your dinner is much louder than before.
The kids appear to argue, just to make us mad.
A simple kiss missed off a text can make us feel so sad.
The house becomes a shit hole & those jobs mentioned in jest
Become the subject of our wrath, the whole place IS a fucking mess.
Empty cans and packets, left around the place,
A stranded cup with dregs of drink we're tempted to sling in someone's face.
Moderate to severe...
Everything you utter WILL be blown out of proportion.
It's best to keep your mouth shut and proceed with utmost caution.
Our friends are all ignoring us or talking behind our back.
Don't try to convince us otherwise because it simply is just FACT!
Our paranoia's growing, our ability to cope,
Is disappearing rapidly - you do not stand a hope!
Don't question our decisions or suggest you hate your meal.
Our demeanor is unstable and we've the ability to kill.
Severe to needing help…
We'd like to rip your balls off and shove ‘em down your throat
For suggesting we have PMT, it's not a FUNNY joke
You're the reason that we suffer it's your fault in every way
Be careful what you say to her revenge may be sweet one day.
We're erratic contradictory, illogical and absurd,
So my reason for this poem is just in case you haven't heard
It's isn't just your Mrs that suffers this infliction,
When the time of the month comes around again REMOVE all knives from the kitchen.