PMS lately has been accompanied by this tendency to do a mad shopping spree. As opposed to frantically foraging for something to eat, as was the norm, my appetite becomes voracious for something to buy. The scope is rather broad, from the utilitarian domestic (dust rag) to the damn frivolous (an overpriced shirt). Grocery shopping becomes more frequent and conversations with husband are suffused with bargaining deals for an out-of-reach purse. Buying anything, something, becomes an unexplainable need that if not satisfied will morph into one gigantic tantrum.
The poor creature is perplexed by the situation. Under normal circumstances, he would just have to deal with my pendulum-inspired temperament. And just when he's getting the hang of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (my mercurial mood has become a source of much amusement to him, as he's able to release his creativity via his convuluted conversation gambits that always lead to a swing or a see-saw--get it?) I throw him a doosra. Now, he has to figure out a way to medicate a shopping disorder on top of everything else.
During these times, he would be like a spiritual coach, coaxing me to fight my demons (the retailers). When I walk out of a shop without a purchase, he would dispense lines like "I'm so proud of you," and will manage to sound proudly, too.
My options are looking rather enviable. It seems that for the weeks (yes, mine lasts this long) prior to my gender-based agony, the kilos I would not gain I would lose in my bank account. There's an existentialist question for you: would you rather become fat or become poor?
No comments:
Post a Comment