Now I am never usually one to cry PMT, but the past twenty-four hours has been utter, hormone induced hell. I have, to date:
Spoiled an otherwise lovely afternoon in very good company by getting "freaked out" by the way the conversation was heading. It was, of course, a totally normal conversation, but no matter, I went stonily silent. Naturally I kept saying "it's fine, nothing wrong here, I'm totallyfinethankyouveryfuckingmuch".
Purchased and ingested an inordinant amount of chocolate and Pom Bears, the remants of which I am consuming stale.
Nearly cried as I passed a man in a wheelchair because he was "so thin".
Told a member of the opposite sex to "for God's sake grow up". I'm sure he would have had he not been SEVEN.
Almost fainted in a Schlecker and a lift and a photocopy shop. And I am not a fainter.
Almost killed about six people on the S Bahn because they KEPT FUCKING TOUCHING MY HANDS OR MY BAG.
It's enough to make you wish you were a man. If they weren't all so bloody USELESS.