Ah, that wonderful time to be a woman. That one (or two with PMS) week a month that the demons raise to the surface to make life living hell for the poor schmucks around us.
As if the problems associated with bipolar weren't bad enough, Mother Nature adds to it. I've been kind of hypomanic lately, that is until I walked into the Valley of the Shadow of Death, a.k.a. transforming into a ravenous, jealous, whiny, bitchy succubus from Hell (who still looks like a cross between Janet Reno and Rosie O'Donnell).
Naturally this occurs just when I get my meds straightened out and get used to being on a somewhat even keel. My emotions were in check, with the exception of jealousy (which pisses me off). Although I never have lost my knack for being brutally honest and straightforward, even through the occasional shyness. Hopefully the effect of this being-a-woman thing won't last long, and I can get my jealous bones under control, or at least break them into fine powder so they can't annoy me anymore.
You really should pity whatever poor man gets stuck with me for life. Hopefully he's deaf enough he won't hear the whining or the jealous bitching. I guess I can crank up the death metal or the TV for the guy. Maybe get in the kitchen and make him a sammich. Surely he couldn't hear over chewing on good food.