You’ve been warned.
Why does my PMiSery take me by surprise, EVERY DAMN MONTH?
I can’t resist Burger King breakfast (ham and cheese biscuit sandwich, no egg THANKS).
I cry at everything, including (but certainly not limited to):
* Bike rides .
* Downton Abbey.
* Looking at my scheduled workouts for the next day.
* Feeling trinormous and believing that I will never figure out a nutrition plan that allows me to train and not gain a pound a day and I will never fit in my wedding dress and life will be unhappy forever WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Thankfully, I live with a genius. When I initiated a conversation about setting our wedding date, he calmly responded:
“We don’t have to decide anything in the next ten minutes. Why don’t we discuss this later?”
He also came home with a KitKat and watched four episodes of Archer with me. He is not in the danger zone.
In a few days, when I deflate and the world feels less heinous and weepmaking, I will feel silly about writing this post. And about 3.5 weeks later I will again be a homicidal marshmallow with no idea why.
I’m an idiot.