THIN 'ISH'

I never usually suffer from PMS. I’m usually calm, collected and very approachable. No fire- breathing dragon here, no sireeee. But this weekend, crises, I was off the charts loop-da- friggin-loop. Keeping control of my emotions was pretty much impossible. Not knowing what I was going to do next, made anyone else hazarding a guess pretty much impossible. So while The Housemate read the signals and kept out of my way, the Wine Merchant was in the firing line. And got shot down a few times.

There are many things that you shouldn’t say to a woman, premenstrual or not and The Wine Merchant managed to cover them all. But the best was while driving on the way to get me a fat- free chockie bottie from Woolies.

Me: Crises, I feel fat and disgusting.
The Wine Merchant: *Silence*
Me: What?!
WM: Nothing! What do you want me to say?
Me: Well not to put words in your mouth or anything, but how about ‘You are NOT fat and disgusting’. That would be a start.
WM: Ok, you’re not fat and disgusting.
Me: You can’t say that. I told you to say that.
WM: Jesus Baglett, ok, you’re thin!
Me: Thanks a lot.
WM: Ish.
Me: What the hell is ‘ish’?
WM: You’re thinish.
Me: WHAT?!

Cars around me slammed on brakes, birds in distant lands flew off the trees in fright and somewhere in Cape Town, my parents looked at each other and asked ‘Did you just hear Baglett’?

Me: What the f*ck is thin ISH?!
WM: Well you’re not skeletal and you’re not overweight. So you’re thinish.

Before I could stop them, tears projected themselves out of my eyes, shot across the car and landed in a pool onto the dashboard.

Me: There are many words where ‘ish’ is fitting Wine Merchant. People from Finland for example, can’t get enough of the friggin letters.
WM: Childish is another great one.
Me: WHAT?!

Again with the birds, and my parents were now convinced I was in the next room.

Me: Are you calling me fat and childish?
WM: Crises Baglett, I’m not calling you either. Would you calm down?!
Me: Don’t tell me to calm down, you’re the one who should calm down.
WM: Oh for God’s sake. Drink your milkshake.
Me: No. I’m thinish. And thinish people can’t afford to drink milkshakes.
WM: Oh good God.

Obviously I sulked the whole way home. It’s been three days now and the poor boy keeps saying things like ‘Where are you Baglett, I can’t see you!’ when I walk past followed by ‘Check that model, she’s thinish’.

As stupid as I feel, when I’m like that boys should really not be allowed to speak.