Dear Mr. Hormone:
Sometimes I love you. You know those times, when my heart is racing and I feel hot inside.
Sometimes I hate you. You know those times, when my body is tired and I feel grouchy inside.
Right now, it’s the latter. Why do you reduce me to sniveling, needy chick who needs reassurance from her boyfriend?
There is a paranoia creeping into my gut each month, more annoying than the cramps. Does he still love me? Does he miss me when I’m gone?
I mean, really, WTF? This isn’t the ass-kicking, bad ass Suzanne Woodstock I know. Who the hell is this irrational girl? Where is the strong, down-to-earth woman?
And where the FUCK is some chocolate?