If there ever were a "horror" chick flick, this would be it.
All the key ingredients of this Lifetime-forged genre are here. Most notably, an allegedly homely gal (the irresistible Amy Laughlin) who blossoms and finds long-illusive romance at the absolute least opportune moment.
Namely just as she begins to routinely sprout unsightly body hair and be overtaken with animalistic sexual desires to the exaggerated degree of becoming an honest-to-goodness man-eater.
That’s right, she’s a PREMENSTRUAL WEREWOLF!!!
Har! Har! Har!
As cringe-worthy as that must sound, writer/director Jacqueline Garry keeps the yucks — and, well, yucks — in just the precise balance to make this quirky little flick a genuine gas, even for those CineSchlockers who’d readily choose harakiri over a lonesome trip down Aisle 9 in search of tampons.