**Warning: contains strong language and references to the female reproductive system**
Chestnuts not roasting on an open fire
for fear I may incinerate myself
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
trigger my auditory startle response.
cold turkey without meds can be
a recipe for disaster time
but the drugs don’t work for me right now you see
so I’ll just die inside and say ‘I’m fine:’
I know that Santa’s on his way
and there’s really only one thing I would say,
‘If you could grant my Christmas wish
you’d send a surgeon to remove my uterus.’
And so I’m offering this simple wish
to all who suffer as I do…
Although it’s been said
many times, many ways…
© 2021 experimentsinfiction.com. All Rights Reserved.
This one goes out to my fellow sufferers
Having just got through a fortnight of PMDD Hell, my next wave of symptoms are scheduled to hit just as Santa arrives. I am trying out a new treatment, but I am not altogether confident it will agree with me. I don’t think PMDD is funny in any way, but I wanted to write something which might bring a smile to the faces of fellow sufferers, who will surely identify with the scenarios I describe above.