I am thoroughly convinced that there is such a thing as Irritable Female Syndrome. When I tried to Google this, it came back with all sorts of fun information about a real disease, called Irritable Bowel Syndrome. While I don't doubt the two could be mildly connected, that wasn't what I was looking for. I wanted answers as to why the female race seems to go through these periods of time where they become moody, angry, violent; even psychotic; and I am not talking about that awesome time of the month that makes every male within a hundred-yard radius run for the hills. I am talking about a real issue that affects us all, at any given time. There are real symptoms; and while I am no doctor, I think I have come up with some pretty sound treatment options for those of you who may be suffering from this terribly frustrating condition.
First off, we have to figure out what we are dealing with.
{While some indications that you or a loved one may be struggling with this condition may be unnoticeable to some, most of the symptoms I have noticed are no less noticeable than a pink elephant in a white room.}
-- Tightly clenched jaws/knuckles/etc: Generally a good sign something is not right.
-- Glaring: Perhaps the sun is in her eyes; or perhaps she is trying to bore a hole through your soul. Either way, put down the peanut butter and walk away. Just walk away....
-- Lack of humor/sympathy/empathy: If she isn't laughing at your normally hilarious jokes, and seems to care more about cleaning the imaginary dirt out from under her nails, it is time to move on.
-- Tension: If it seems like you could cut the tension around her with a butter knife, don't ask her what is wrong. Chances are she won't tell you; you may need to put a preacher's number somewhere close.
-- Throwing objects/Yelling profanities/ slamming drawers, etc: This is probably a really good indication that you have either worn out your welcome, said something really stupid, or she is suffering from some other incurable fit of rage brought on by demonic possession. Maybe put that preacher on speed dial.
But what causes women to suddenly be overcome with such manifestations? We've all seen it. You might have watched your sweet, quiet, lovely grandmother suddenly turn into a crock-tossing maniac when your grandfather pissed her off. Or maybe you, being all mild-mannered and innocently sweet (oh, hell who are you trying to kid??) have become overwhelmed with the syndrome and couldn't fight the urge to shit a chicken in your cubicle when your computer auto restarts, your coffee spills on your desk, files are missing, you see baby puke all over the front of your blouse, and at that very moment that you don't think it could get any worse, a co-worker dares to peek around the corner and ask if you need some Midol. Yep, pretty sure this is just a pure and simple case of IFS.
Other triggers may include:
- Having to repeat everything you say a minimum of 3 times, because no one will listen and/or doesn't really give a shit about what you are saying anyways;
-Coming home to a dirty house and finding your significant other drunk and passed out in the recliner (I've never experienced this one, but I hear it happens);
- Stepping on Legos/ army men/Lincoln logs/My Little Ponys/ Polly Pockets five minutes after asking your kids to "PICK THAT SHIT UP!"
-Not feeling appreciated, for doing all the sucky jobs no one else ever volunteers for;
But this list could go on and on. The more I think about this, this syndrome can't just be for women. Men must deal with the same moronic people we do on a daily basis too? Right?
I guess that is what keeps Budweiser and Absolut in business. And Hershey's. And Ben & Jerry's. Because the best form of treatment appears to be the ingestion of large amounts of alcohol, chocolate, or ice cream; but I don't recommend mixing the three or you might end up with Irritable bowels. Other long term treatments include telling your co-workers where to stuff it; flipping off ignorant drivers; blasting whatever kind of angry music you need to blast until your shoulders finally relax; and last, but not least, taking a hot bath with a glass of bubbly and then turning the world off for at least six hours. Hopefully, by the time the inflicted party wakes up the next day, she will be feeling much better, and will be able to cope with the frustrations in her life once again. Oohh, that reminds me, I was on a mission to get a beer out of fridge roughly 33.76 minutes ago. If that doesn't help, it might be time to call the preacher!
Best wishes to all my afflicted friends out there; until we cross paths again. ~ Richelle