The menstrual gods have it out for me this month. I’m two days late. No, I’m not pregnant.

I had a run-in with clomid earlier this month, and apparently it can cause your cycles to become abnormally long. If you’re lucky, I won’t tell you that story.

So now I’m stuck in period limbo, and my PMS is raging like I’m a greasy faced 8th grader with an unpredictable cycle.

Evidence of my PMS:

I had an appointment with my acupuncturist whom I normally love to pieces. He usually says all the right things, and generally makes me feel relaxed and supported.  Today, we were chatting it up as usual. I confessed that I was frustrated by the delay in my period, and he explained to me about how clomid can mess with my cycle. I was sort of relieved to hear that, because I was starting to wonder what the deal was. As I started to express my relief in words, he cut me off and said to me, “Just be patient. Why are you getting so worked up? Patience is a virtue.”

OH HELL NO.

I felt my face heat up, and my ears get hot. I explained to him in my best Asian “I’m nice” girl manner how I’ve tried to be very patient. It’s been two years. I’m running low on patience. He laughed, then I sorta politely snorted in return. But what I really wanted to do was kick his front teeth in.

I know he meant well, but in that moment, I felt PMS rage. I didn’t want to be lectured about being patient about my period, especially from a man. For some reason, that mattered to me.

Also, I need to write a book about the conversations I eavesdrop on while waiting to see my acupuncturist. The walls are thin, and I have nothing better to do. Funny shit. I’m sure somewhere out there, a woman is sitting at home writing in her blog or telling her husband about the hilariously possessed PMS woman at acupuncture in the room next to her.