She's in the express line at the grocery store in her oldest, rattiest yoga pants. She has on a tshirt with holes and a few unidentifiable stains, and her hair is pulled back in a headband or some other assortment of non matching clips. There is desperation in her eyes.
As the line moves ever slowly, her impatience begins to show. The foot begins to tap. The lip begins to curl. You hear her breathing start to get fairly rapid and you wonder if she is going to have an aneurysm while the teenaged boy scans items slower than anyone thought possible upon joining the 10 items or less line. After a few more minutes there is some mild cursing. After a few more minutes, the cursing isn't so mild, but at least she's still muttering them under her breath. You are thankful you don't have the kids with you.
Finally, finally, it's her turn. And as she unloads her items from her cart, there is a sudden break in the clouds, and you know what's wrong. The little teenaged boy notices the specific nature of the purchases, too, and it's as if a speed heretofore unknown takes over his hands and each item flies by the scanner without a hint of a retry. Two one-pound bag of M&M's...Diet Dr. Pepper...Movie Theater popcorn...Midol...two boxes of tampons...one box of liners....one box of pads...back heating patches....
Here's to you, brazenly PMSing girl...we hope you get the relief you need.