Crazy Hormone Lady Apologizes

Despite what my husband might tell you, I am less than perfect. I have days when I don't want to get out of bed, I sometimes go to bed without doing the dishes, and I complain about my job. (A LOT.) But the one thing that I dislike most about myself--the one thing I would change if a genie gave me the option--is the affliction I like to refer to as "Diarrhea of the Mouth."

You see, I talk too much. More than other people. I should come equipped with a sign that says 

"TELL ME TO SHUT UP BECAUSE OTHERWISE YOU WILL NEVER GET A WORD IN EDGEWISE AND I'D REALLY LIKE TO HEAR YOUR STORY ABOUT THE FUNNY LADY AT THE GROCERY STORE."

See? Even my sign is too wordy.

But it's true. On any given day, I'm all...






I try to reign myself in. I try to keep my thoughts to myself. But usually, if I have a thought, it's going to be shared. Sometimes I'm able to filter them before they come out, but a lot of the times, you're getting 100% undiluted Abby brain. Which can be a good thing, or a bad thing (depending on whether we're talking politics or not.)
Now this may not seem like a huge deal to you. I'm sure you know lots of people who can't keep their mouths shut. Three weeks out of the month, I'm fairly confident that most of my friends will tell you that my story-telling and sarcastic nature is rather delightful. But on that fourth week of the month (you know the one I'm talking about) things tend to get a little....out-of-hand.
Because I'm still going to tell you what is floating around in my brain. I'm still going to tell you my story about the rude customer/complain about the toe I stubbed earlier/whine about the officiating in the most recent NFL game. The problem is that now my big fat mouth is accompanied by big fat hormones. 
I imagine it's quite like having a conversation with a crazy person, because I'm all like...



It's like some crazy brain gnome crawled in through my ear and took over my ability to function as an adult. Stuff comes out of my mouth that, as I'm saying it out loud, I'm thinking to myself, "What am I saying? I don't really think your mom is weird/want to take out a loan to buy an Irish pub/blargenblargenblarg/want to make out with Regis Philbin."
The truth of the matter is that when I'm Crazy Hormone Lady, I tend to say things that I don't mean. Not even a little bit. And unfortunately, there's usually emotional shrapnel involved. I wake up a few days later feeling normal, and cheery, and ready to talk without sobbing all over myself. But those words I blurted before I took my Midol are still hanging out there in the world, doing damage to those I love.
So, for the record, I'd like to issue a blanket apology to any and all who have ever been affected by my Diarrhea of the Mouth. I didn't mean to make fun of your nose by calling it 'bulbous'/I really do think your dog is adorable, not mangy/your voice doesn't really remind me of nails on a chalkboard. I was going through a hormonal phase, and I hope you'll forgive me.
I'll send you a warning email in the next three weeks so you'll know to steer clear.
Animated gifs created thanks to Gickr.com.