My period is due in exactly one week and, in a twist that will surprise absolutely no one, I woke up this morning bloated like a week-old corpse. My jeans are pushing up a muffin top that rivals anything the Pillsbury Dough Boy could bake up and I am tired to the point of actively planning the best time and place to fall into a drooling coma.
My diet has been good and I know that junk food is not to blame for these symptoms so I guess I have to point the finger at that damn Eve; if she had kept that fucking apple to herself I wouldn't be in this position.
Since I am in this position, however, the best that I can do is stick to The Code. Wait, that's a pirate thing, isn't it? So, I'll stick to The Plan, that's it, the Plan. I'll continue to eat well, eschewing all manner of sweet, salty, greasy and gooey snacks in favor of fresh fruits, vegetables, lean proteins and whole grains. I'll keep walking, get plenty of rest and continue to drink water like its going out of style and, with any luck; the PMS will magically disappear and I will shrink back to my pre-corpse dimensions.
Prior to that happening, however, I have to weigh in. This may not be a week that shows any loss but at least I will be able to comfort myself with the knowledge that I haven't fallen off the wagon; the wagon is just kind of stuck in a bog of hormonal crud.
Like every other month. Fucking Eve.
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