...hearing one of your kids call you "Mom" gets you all weepy and thankful, when normally hearing the word "Mom" in mid-August is reason to drink.
...you can actually hear the salt and vinegar chips shimmying for your attention inside their sealed up bags in the grocery store.
...you have massive knockers.
...unfortunately you also have a massive bloated mid-section that the massive knockers can rest upon.
...Arby's sounds good.
...your forehead rivals the Gulf in oiliness.
...driving in traffic, even if "traffic" means "you stuck behind one other person driving like there is MOLASSES in their gas tank" causes you to think very bad thoughts about your fellow humans.
...if you could go to a feed store and buy a salt lick and set it in front of the couch, like a big white ottoman, you would. And you'd lick that sucker while watching and crying as a sweet guy with a trembling chin is getting kicked off Project Runway.
...you lose your Bejeweled Blitz mojo (probably because your hands are puffy and your fingers resemble shiny pink sausages and that makes it hard to use the mouse) and just for a minute you start to think that the whole game is rigged.
...you pull an Alec Baldwin on one of your kids and for the millionth time in your parenting career you thank GOD that no one is recording you. Poor Alec.
...you cannot string more than two words together to form a lucid, comprehensible sentence.
If all of the above have happened to you, yes, you may be PMSing. Or you may just be a weepy salt craving bitchy forgetful middle aged woman.
I know, right? Like there's a difference.
Off to the feed store.