Known as PMS.

No, it’s not another coded name for a new guy in my life.

Not Pre-Marital Sex either.

It’s Pre-Menstrual Symptoms.

Yay.

I can’t say how glad I am that I am finally bleeding.

Not that I enjoy leakages and having something wedge between my you-know-where.

But yeah, I can list 1001 things on why I am glad that my monthly hassle is finally here.

Cast that dirty thought out of your evil mind, pregnancy is not included in the ‘1000 things’.

In the first place, there’s remotely, or rather, no chance that I would be.

But, after being tormented by the fatigue PMS brought along for the past few days, I heave a loud sigh of great relief when I woke up today feeling charged, energised, and fresh.

I even contemplated to go jogging cos of the spare zest, but I didn’t think jogging with something bloody wedged between is a joy.

You have no idea what kind of monster PMS can turn me into.

And I really am awed by how this incredibly powerful thing called hormones can be more lethal than any weapons of mass destruction.

Wanna conquer the world? Saddam should look no further.

Lock an army of PMSing ladies together with the jerks and bitches they loathe, and within minutes, the entire galaxy will be his.

That is, if he could survive the blast as well.

I would morph into an absolute devil, barely with any hint of my usual self.

Snappish, easily agitated, extremely anti-social, grouchy until cannot grouchy(what a sentence structure), exceptionally whinny, heavy display of koala bear syndrome, perpetually angry with myself, a constant urge to bawl and feeling suicidal over the puniest thoughts.

I would stab anyone who comes within 2m of my radius with my piercing stares.

Bottomline?

An utter bitch.

Remedy?

Cuddles and given the grace to sulk. Endlessly, I might add.

Then, I would crumble into this needy baby, and just wanna snuggle up to some sense of affections.

My body is very sensitive to the hormonal change.

The constant fatigue would finally cease when I start to bleed.

I was almost dozing off when I was out last night, and I was spaced out most of the night when anyone tried to make a conversation with me.

I looked at this girl whom I just got newly acquainted like a hurt puppy, and whimpered, ‘I’ve got PMS… and am extremely drained and exhausted.‘ while she listened empathetically after asking if I was bored.

*PUUURRRRRRRRRRRR*

I punched my fist into the air victoriously when I got home past midnight yesterday to realise the time had came.

Thus, I feel as if I regain my zeal today.

I scurried around the house in full zest today, sweeping the long forgotten laundry off the floor, into the washing machine.

I skipped into the spare room which is obscenely littered with my clothes and scoured through them to rescue them out of the mess, before delicately folded them into neat rectangles.

Tops here, casuals there, jeans here, pants there, dresses on the hangers, panties here, bras there, skirts here, school uniforms for kinky keepsake purposes there…

Whee.

In the midst of it, I found stuffs that welcomed flashbacks from the past. Things that I would rather not remember.

Ouch.

I am glad I chance upon them after my PMS, and not entangled in the midst of it.

Or else who knows the hells it would unleash.

I whistled as I paired up the shoes and put them side by side.

I hummed some happy tunes as I dug into the twisted pile of damp laundry, spreaded them across the poles and watched them dance to the breeze.

The bright colours that adorned the poles perked me up.

Reds, pinks and all the girlie shades.

I never knew I was THAT girlie.

I even decided I shall blog!

I resolved to finish my new read by today.

Yippee.

I drew up a list of how I should systematically spread the chores over these 2 days.

Handwashing tomorrow. Scrub bathtub/sinks/toilet bowl and bathroom floor. Vacuum cleaning and mopping tomorrow. Light wash tomorrow!

Ironing.

I might not be able to wait and ended up doing them later.

Such push doesn’t come easily, you know?

Oh, and I can finally wash my freshly tinted hair later, and return to my usual curls.

How exciting.

I even felt upbeat enough to take a walk in the cheery sunny day, to the coffeeshop for lunch.

I was litted up by the fact that I no longer crave for lard-infested Char Kuey Tiao, but wheat biscuits.

See! Having menstruation finally means no sinful cravings, that would derive you into a bawling state cos of the immense guilt from obscene indulgence.

And! Best part? I looked into the mirror and thought I lost 5 kg from yesterday cos the water retention and bloatedness sept away with the blood.

Whee!

I thought I was fat, but I have an excuse.

PMS was the culprit.

Don’t tell me I am deluded, cos I know I still am quite a bit from my ideal weight.

Dammit.

And my complexion finally cleared up!

Yay.

And my favourite perfumes no longer nauseate me.

And! Throw me any jibe right now and I could retaliate without spacing out and making a bimbo out of myself cos of the slackened wits.

Oh oh oh. Did I mention how I slumped into bed at 2.30am yesterday and I managed to sleep on without coldsweating and feeling all uncomfortable?

Erm well, SBB did call at 4 plus and 5 plus, and Vamp called at almost 6 for a short call.

Yet, I was very alert and not feeling tired.

And! I could easily drift back into snoozeland after they hung up.

Such a bliss when I could sleep so comfortable without all the edginess PMS brings.

I woke at 12 plus today. Body clock is back to normal. All’s good, isn’t it?

Bleeding is good.

I sound like I am high on drugs or something. Gee.

Well, that’s the vast difference.

And considering that this is one of the mildest PMS streak I had in a long while, minus the backaches, swollen boobs, crying spells and prolonged moodiness(the moody part only lasted half of Friday!), I had it easier this month.

Just that all of the above were traded for extreme fatigue and I was spacing out for a good half of the week wherever I go.

The exhaustion was doubled.

Yet, quality sleep was deprived cos too much discomfort felt.

Such annoyance.

Now that it’s finally here, I could move on to some things on the agenda which I had delayed for the longest time.

Like the ‘appointment’ I set with Vamp.

Like getting myself started on some daily routine.

Like going for my gynae checkup which I had delayed and missed 4 times for the past 2 years.

For all I know, I might be getting cancer without even knowing it. Muahahaha.

The thought of going for the checkup scares me. *Shudder*

It is just something psychological I can’t seem to get over.

Maybe I will go next month, next year, next millenium or something.

Ah well.

***

Someone tried hacking into my blog account.

I hope your genital is rotting, face infested with zits, body accumulating with excess lard, and your armpit hair will grow to a feet long.

***

I graced almost every corner of Singapore on a frustrating Friday.

Woke up to a blur, still feeling very much drained and sulkish.

It was one of those days I want to go to nowhere but stay under my duvet.

I got ready, packed my stuffs, before heading out of the door at late 3 in the afternoon.

It was something I couldn’t miss.

Had wanted to drop by Parkway Parade, and realised there is a direct bus from Jurong East to my destination.

Wrong move.

I took a bus to transit to 197 at the library.

15 minutes of wait didn’t kill me.

I read my book.

Spoke to SBB briefly on the bus, and I thought it would eat up enough time for the ride.

How wrong I was.

What I wasn’t prepared was the darn blardy long bus ride that took up 1 and half hour.

When I alighted, I thought I reached KL or something.

I mean, hello? A flight to KL would take only 45 minutes with more comfortable seats and snacks included okay?!

My legs nearly buckled underneath when I finally strolled onto the streets.

To fit into the theme of ‘PINK’, I was as pink as one could be.

Pink shirt with a pink camisole underneath. Pink bra. Pink minis.

With my dyed, straight hair, I feel like a Lian princess.

SBB tried to speak to me in Hokkien, and doubted my ability in Hokkien sprouting.

As much as he was laughing throughout, I did think I fare pretty well when I spoke Hokkien with my own unique accent.

That’s called individuality, alright?

I actually managed some decent sentences besides the fanciful nouns with nothing but references to genitals.

Parkway Parade brought back incessant memories of my childhood.

Going to Parkway Parade was a joy.

Whenever dad could squeeze me into his busy routine, going to Parkway Parade was a treat, since it was an obscene distance from Taman Jurong.

Of course, the countless disappointments from unfulfilled treats scarred me as a child.

When he was free, my instant reply to his ‘Where do you want to go?’ would be ‘Parkway Parade’.

The bare quality time I had with them, was there.

Bliss. No fights. No beatings.

It was there, where I felt I had a knitted family.

I remember how once I stubbornly wanted to go to Parkway Parade instead of those night fairs that I threw a tantrum despite it was dad’s intention to enjoy those park rides with me.

We didn’t even venture past the ticket booth, cos I was vastly disappointed that I didn’t get to Parkway Parade as promised.

I went home, and got a beating from dad.

I could remember the number of times my dad ever laid hands on me. They could be counted on my fingers.

That, was one of the rare moments.

As I grew up, I slowly regret not going into the fair with my parents, cos it would mean a whole new memory into the data bank, which I could look back and reminisce a different experience with the folks.

Another once, I was injured after falling off the bicycle. The wound was quite bad, and a huge area of scab was forming.

I still insisted on going to Parkway Parade with my healing wound.

When I fell down as a kid, I used to get a beating from my mum for my clumsiness.

Since I was, and very much am a clumsy person, I would not cry after I fall, cos all the crying would be left for the smacking that followed.

It was a lot of fear when I fell as a kid, which never went away.

I remember I did not get a beating from my mum after falling off my red bicycle, which came a surprise.

Perhaps so, I have very vivid memory of that fall, cos my fear was redundant.

But what happened was, I was diving into the sea of colourful plastic balls at Parkway Parade, when something happened, and my big chunk of scab fell off.

I left the place, turning pieces after pieces of tissues scarlet.

I went home, and got caned pretty badly.

Ah. Memories.

And so, I was saying, Parkway Parade.

It went through a major change.

I think I only been there twice or thrice since I was a kid.

I scurried round the mall for a gift, and finally settled for a tiara, and 2 fairytale story books — the known Disney princesses - Snow White and er… I can’t remember who, but that she was donning a pink gown.

Pink gown reminds me of her.

It was Faith’s 21st birthday chalet, and as usual, I am not good with gifts.

To me, she’s always a fragile lady putting on a strong front.

Perhaps that’s why, she’s always wanting to be a princess, cos all she wants, is to live happily ever after.

Which girl doesn’t want that?

Just that our ambition to be a princess is always tainted by the harsh reality, and became an outlet for a fantasy world.

My dear, I do wish you would find your deserving happily ever after ending.

Just thought the tiara would be sufficient enough to realise her dream of becoming a princess, and that the irony of giving her fairytales books(which are aptly sub-named ‘Friendships of the Fairies‘ and ‘Friends you can count on‘ ) meant that she doesn’t need to give up on her dreams simply because she has reached adulthood.

Happy 21st, and the years forth.

***

I strutted out of the mall, and asked for directions from the kind Old Chang Kee auntie who pointed me towards the direction of the underpass to East Coast.

I found the underpass with relative ease, and East Coast was a mere 5 minutes walk away.

Cool.

I enjoyed the dimming blue of the sky, and the enthusiastic breeze that greeted me as I exited from the other side of the road.

The buzz, the laughters, the Siberian husky jogging with its owner, the youths gathered, men with bulging musles in tiny shorts jogging(-whistles-), pretty boys blading, and families cycling.

Wheee. I like.

If I wasn’t in my slippers, I would be breaking into short sprints to jog my way down to the chalet.

If I wasn’t in my skirt, I would be heading straight into one of the shops to rent a bicycle to immerse myself into such laid back evening.

I walked, and walked.

I saw an empty bench, and sat down to enjoy the mesmerising atmosphere, slowing my pace, enjoying the relaxing breeze.

I adore park life, but it was too much a distance for me to cover to get there.

The dimmed blue darkened to a light shade of grey.

The chalet was still not in sight.

I didn’t know how far it was, until I finally got to the chalet.

And?

The chalet nearest to me was the last few chalets, when her chalet was A, furthest from where I was.

Blardy hell.

35 minutes by foot alright?!

And there was barely any hint of daylight when I reached.

So, an hour and half of bus ride plus 35 mins by foot, I think I could almost reach Thailand.

Surprisingly, I did not sweat a single drop like what someone had predicted.

‘Actually it’s within walkable distance, just that by the time you get there, you’ll be covered in nothing but sweat.‘

I spaced out most of the time cos the tired bug was slowly seeping in.

Then, the horror came.

Dad called to say he is in Malacca, so I had to make plans to endorse my passport by myself.

And, since I didn’t expect that, I only had 30 bucks with me to last till he comes back.

If I have to make my way back to Malaysia by myself, I would sure have to take a midnight cab back to Jurong, which would cost 15 bucks.

So, taking a cab to the causeway would be too much a luxury to handle.

And how the hell am I gonna get out of East Coast, to get to Woodlands?

Just then, my handphone was threatening to space out cos I forgot to feed it electricity.

And my bout of PMS was threatening to put me to sleep right there and then. Had wanted to sleep there, but decided not to.

I feel nauseated when I saw food. Unwell. Sickly.

I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone.

I finally tried breaking the ice since the girlies are all very fabulous characters.

I pulled through till the cake cutting(oh my, the cake is simply delicious but is hellava expensive cake), before one of her very kind friends, Alvin, offered to drop me off at the nearest MRT station.

I took up the offer.

But Alvin went the extra mile.

He knew I was pretty rushed and that I didn’t have enough cash on me.

Thus, he offered to share the cab to where he stays, and then I would continue on the journey to Woodlands with him paying for the full fare.

I was taken aback by the nice gesture and refused. He insisted.

Being in a rather desperate situation and feeling extremely unwell, I swallowed my pride and promised I would buy him a drink the next time round.

He’s one of those rare people who are genuinely nice, and do things without asking anything in return.

Nowadays, nice people I met are all cab-related.

Really, really heartfelt thanks to the darling.

***

I reached the checkpoint just in time, feeling absolutely lethargic. The fare of $21 pretty much explains why I was car-sick.

East to north. And west beckoned.

I made my way home after endorsing my passport, and it was a bus ride to Kranji MRT, a train ride to Jurong East MRT, and the maroon hue of the sky plus its howling wind scrapped the plans of me walking home.

I hopped on a cab for a short ride, feeling the pinch.

Wise move. The windscreen was slowly spotted with dots of droplets.

I heaved a sigh of relief when I finally stepped into the wrap of my home, ending the day.

Raf tried enticing me to Zouk where Feroz had a really cute pal in tow.

The babe even went as far as offering to pay for my cover to get me down to boogie with her.

Was darn tempted to as the boogie cells in me beckoned, but the fact that I might be stranded there and not able to afford a cab ride back put me off and I had to disappoint the darling.

*Sulk*

That is what happened when I didn’t check my bank account and splurge on a hairjob and senseless shopping.

*Double sulk*

So, another day of home-bound activities today.

Yeap.

Excuse me now, while I head straight to the waiting hoover.