First of all, you suck. No question about it. I hate you.
 

You make me feel lousy. Every inch of my body feels rotten. You invade my brain and make me hate myself and question so much. Hell, you even made me postpone an internship interview once!
 

You make me so cranky that I don't even want to be around myself. I relish the quiet darkness when everyone is asleep instead of watching my kids laughing and just being kids. You do this to me!
 

You make me want to dig my uterus out with an ice cream scooper. Or a fork.
 

You have no pattern. You come when you want, which only unnerves me more.
 

You completely f--k with my blood sugars and the fact that you have no pattern makes that little gem even worse because if I knew when you were planning to make your grand entrance I could watch for the lows!
 

But instead, every low or questionable high around the time I *think* you might show up has me wondering if I should correct or eat. Because who knows what you'll do to my sugar in two hours. Or overnight. Geez, do you realize the havoc you wreak on my morning walk? Gah!
 

And while we're on the subject of eating: why the hell  do you put this pit in my stomach for a week before you show up? Seriously, nothing satisfies me and a meal that makes The Mr. "full" makes me feeling like I wasn't even at the table. Which only makes the blood sugar situation worse!!
 

Do you hear me? If it weren't for the early menopause thing I'd be on the phone with any OB who would listen to me and I'd be shutting your ass down.
 

So there.