The PMS around these parts is running so thick that even I am shocked with the things flying out of my mouth. Now that’s saying something. Usually it takes some pretty ridonk things to shock me. Poor Brian is living with a modern day Cybil.
He’s all “How was your day, honey?”
“It was fine, if you consider being in meetings ALL DAY fine, while a semi truck full of flying daggers crashes through your uterus. That sounds fine, right? So yea, it was fine.”
He says “Oh, you’re not feelin’ good? Did you take your bra off yet?”
“A bra removal is not going to fix the the Auschwitz level harvest happening to my eggs right now, Brian. But thank you for reminding me that it’s six pm and I am still wearing this death trap of a titty harness. Also, let me remind you that if I had taken my bra off, you and the rest of the tri-state area would have noticed that. Thank you.”
…. “Are you crying?”
“I’m really sorry I made Jewish reference about my uterus. That was so ugly. Do you know what else is ugly? My heart. It’s black and dying because it’s my time.”
He pulls out the chocolate chips. I put a handful in my mouth and continue to cry. Then we silently move through the kitchen, both of us completely aware of what needs to happen without saying a word. We are making PMS cookies.
He pulls the butter from the fridge and I grab the brown sugar. He turns the oven on and I take off my bra.
We make PMS cookies, which are just brown butter chocolate chip cookies that you make in a muffin tin. Why? Because there is not a cookie big enough to satisfy a girl going through the rage fest that is her time. He knows not to ask questions, but just to load the muffin tin as full as it allows. He pours me a glass of wine and he rubs my shoulders while I measure the flour. It gets everywhere, and he knows he’s the one cleaning that shit up.
I cry even more because he knows exactly what to do. When the cookies are done, I apologize for being a wretch and tears stream my face while cookie crumbs simultaneous fly out of my mouth. I feel overwhelmed with gratefulness as well as horror at what I must look like right now. So I eat another PMS cookie, clearly.
Should you find yourself in a similar situation, I implore you to keep butter and chocolate chips on hand at. all. times.
- butter - 1 stick, browned
- egg - 1
- brown sugar - 3/4 cup
- sugar - 1/4 cup
- vanilla - 1 teaspoon
- flour - 1 1/2 cups
- baking soda - 1/2 teaspoon
- salt - 1/2 teaspoon
- semi-sweet chocolate chips - 1 cup