Hormonal

The other night, my doting husband, HID, watched me undress for bed with a cheeky grin playing about his lips. At the optimal moment, he beckoned me over, pulled me close and placed a kiss on my bare skin. He thought I looked beautiful, and asked me if I’d lost weight.

How lovely, you might think. However my pre-monstral state, my hormone drenched brain sees this display of love and affection as some kind of attack, and I burst into tears, as I weighed myself that morning to discover I had put on half a stone. Perhaps in my confusion I thought HID was being sarcastic? As if he ever would be about something like that, he knows he’d be castrated.

Possible reason for the comment: due to being so busy in our lives, HID hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing me sans-clothing in a while, and thus any scantily clad body, regardless of lumps and bumps, falls on hungry, appreciative eyes.

Possible reason for the bald-faced lying by the dreaded scales: pre-monstral water retention. Right? Well, I’ve been swimming twice already this week just in case the scales are truthful, god forbid. I hardly ever weigh myself, now I remember why!

Grown.

Update: the scales were in fact LYING. I made the schoolboy error of using the scales at work to weigh myself, whereas at home, I weigh just the same as always. Now I don't feel so guilty about that flake.....