Inside every normal girl is a complete nut job. I say this with love girls, but it’s true. There are certain times in our lives where we look back and think, “wow, that was a total losing it moment”. It’s normally when alcohol is involved, or down to a particularly hormonal week of our lives, but one thing we can be sure of is that we all have them. It just depends how we deal with them.
My nut job calming plan is calling my sister. I can call her in hysterics because I stubbed my toe and it was the final straw that turned me from sane and rational to total knife wielding maniac, or when I just need to say something inappropriate and not be judged. A friend of mine’s classic moment was calling her boyfriend in the region of thirty times on a drunken night out, and then when she finally got hold of him, asking him to stop calling her when she was out with the girls.
My personal favourite was when I was having a particularly highly strung episode and I called my sister in full blown nuttiness, to sob down the phone that I was concerned that I had taken too much night nurse, and might wet myself in my sleep. OK so NOW I know that was a bit irrational, but at the time I was genuinely inconsolable at the fact that my cold and flu medicine might cause me to have an accident. Pre menstrual? Go figure.
Another friend, upon discovering her ex boyfriend who she had split up with, had a new girlfriend, took to a few of his t-shirts with a pair of scissors, and decimated them to tiny little squares. She also shattered a few CD’s, and when the red mist cleared, realised her mistake. She had quite liked those t-shirts and had intended to keep them for herself!
I had a particular rant in the office yesterday, when explaining a situation to a colleague who had been away for a few weeks, I found myself getting irate with a glue dot machine. I ended up furious, covered in sticky glue dots and none the better, with him saying “I think maybe it’s time to stop glue dotting now, don’t you?”
So I honestly have to hand it to some of the men around us. Ex boyfriend dealt with period issues with gusto, arming himself with a box of tissues, a chocolate orange and my mobile when I was hormonal; upon the onset of tears a bath would be run, a chocolate orange lobbed at me like a grenade, and my sister speed dialled. He would then take my car and go to the pub, trapping me in the house and thus protecting any innocent member of the public from a rant should I decide to do something like pop to the supermarket. And men seem to handle girl issues with their trademark diplomacy; a pat on the head when in tears is one of my favourites, followed by the provision of a girlfriend, and then a swift and timely exit. One boyfriend actually asked me once if I would like a jam sandwich when I found out my great-grandmother had died; it was as if he remembered what his mum used to offer when he was an injured child and replicated the cure. A jam sandwich!
So let this be said, a nutty moment is something to be embraced, at least we can look back over a cup of tea with the girls on a dreary Sunday and laugh!