Oh, So Damn Bitchy

When I was in tenth grade, hanging out with a friend, she made a statement to a fellow classmate that I cannot remember and then she made one that I have incorporated into life.

“It’s nothing toward you, I just feel like being bitchy today.”

This was a novel thought to me.

I was always the native Californian trying to bring sunshine to everyone’s life. I had never visited New York at that age, so I clearly embraced this new “empowerment” to be bitchy when I felt like it.

Now, you can see the danger here. Too many days of bitchy and people stop being your friend and start figuring out ways to make crank calls and throw things at your house. Ok, so that was then. This is now.

I live with three boys; my husband and two sons. They don’t have the same hormonal fluctuations, so even though they can pinpoint certain calendar days based on my mood, they still don’t get it. There are days where I don’t have the hormonal tolerance to deal with anything.

My husband says, “Why not just take yourself out to dinner?” all smiley and self-righteous. I see through his avoidance of my cycle and say, “Because after I finish crying over this Coca-Cola commercial, I was planning to change into sweats and decide what order to polish off that pint of ice cream and whole bag of chips. Why don’t you leave and take the kids with you? And don’t forget to take the cat, too.”

I know that these statements are irrational, yet, at times it feels good to be bitchy.

Perhaps it is a hormonal artifact left over from cavewomen days. An ancient repopulation device to be sure that the men could find as many women as needed but the women would barely hold on to one long enough to make these fluctuations worthwhile — and have kids.

So, every so often when my kids are being irrational, I let it slide.

By Jennifer O’Shaughnessy