I have PMS and cramps so bad it feels like my insides are on fire, it’s a Thursday, my boss it out of the office, and all I want to do is curl up on my soft, comfy couch in front of the TV and watch ten straight hours of Whose Wedding is It Anyway?, How Do I Look?, What Not to Wear, Flip This House, or America’s Next Top Model reruns while scarfing McDonalds double cheeseburgers and fries and flipping through my girly magazines in the A/C.

I think all menstruating women should have extra sick days written into their contracts to use when PMS hits this hard. One a month. One day where you can sleep in, spend the day in your boyfriend’s tee-shirt and pajama pants, and not have to speak to another human being unless you truly want to. Perhaps I should start lobbying women’s rights groups. After all, we all know that if men had to live through PMS once a month, they’d be crying like babies instead of rolling their eyes when we ask them to pick up more tampons on their way home from work.

It’s gonna be a long day.