Hysterics.

Thursday was a rough one for me. To be honest, the last month has been rough for me and Thursday was just the icing on the cake....the straw that broke the camel's back...the log that broke the floodgate of my tear ducts.

I'll be honest, I had been in need of a good cry. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. You build up to it for days, weeks, sometimes even months. You can feel it coming on and you know it needs to happen, and sometimes you try to force it (so you don't happen upon it at an inopportune moment), but it doesn't work - a forced cry doesn't satisfy. That shit's gotta be real.

And that brings us to Thursday evening at The Beautique.

Thursday I was supposed to have my practice hair and make up done for our wedding. The purpose being to have the same hair lady and same make-up lady as on my wedding day so that we can figure out what works and what doesn't. I had my makeup done and I'll be honest, I looked pretty good...we decided I needed more lipstick, but I looked pretty fantastic. That is, I looked fantastic until it was running down my face 20 minutes later.

When I go down to get my hair done, the girl asks when my wedding day is, and lo and behold, she will be out of town that day. This basically means that I was getting a really expensive hair-do for absolutely no reason. Awesome. And that's when I turned evil.

No, evil isn't the right word. Pathetic is more appropriate. I cried my little pathetic fully made-up eyes out. Bawled. We are talking "5-year-old-who's-mom-won't-let-her-have-Lucky-Charms-at-the-grocery-store" hysterical. I knew I was being absurd, but I couldn't stop...the floodgates were open.

The problem with being a girl is that once you get those tears flowing all the bad things in the world seem so awful and directed at you. I cried for little children in Africa and for my dead flowers in the yard...they were all obviously torturing ME.

Sooo, after discovering my wedding day makeup will not withstand uncontrollable crying for an hour, I get home...still pathetic (and now very scary looking - puffy eyes, snot, mascara all over my face). Tommy is frightened and doesn't know what to do. As his only form of defense, he turned on Tommy Boy (the movie) in an attempt to stop the snot from ruining his couch...apparently he thinks fat men in little coats cheer me up.

Apparently they do. About the time Chris Farley put on that tiny jacket I was ready to join the human race again.

Being a girl and having PMS may be one of the greatest inventions on earth. I was able to act like a complete psycho and it was totally acceptable for 2 hours on Thursday night. Awesome.