What’s All This Then?

3 Dec

who’s in the what now?

So what would YOU do if your OB/GYN told you, with unexpected dramatic flair, “You need to go right home, and throw all your birth control pills away!  You’re DONE!” ?  Me, I kinda felt like crying a little.  My pills? But we’ve been together my entire adult life!  Ironically, my longest relationship by far.  Then … Confusion. What do I do now?  Are there even other forms of birth control out there?  Wait, how does it all work again?  Followed by … Anger.  Shit, don’t tell me we’re going to have to start using condoms!  That blows (no pun intended, well, maybe a little)!  

Seems that if you throw 25+ years on birth control pills in with a few ocular migraines and raise the blood pressure a bit – voila, you’ve got your classic Pre-Stroke Indicators.  Which means no more BCPs.  Ever.  Again.  Fuck, man, I want to keep fucking! 

The snappy OB/GYN lady wanted me to get an IUD fast-fast-fast, because apparently the second you go off the pill your body starts to go cray-cray for making a bay-bay and cranks the factory into overdrive. I know the Dalcon Shield fiasco is decades behind us, but I’m sorry, it’s still pretty hard to warm up to the idea of a pointy metal lance dancing around inside you day in and day out, like a bitter chaperone at a middle school dance continually breaking up the make-out sessions on the cozy sofas that are your uterus.  They want me to get an IUD but I said no, no, no.

Why not free-ball it for awhile?  It’d been so long since I hadn’t either been taking some sort of artificial hormones, or having my real hormones royally fucked with by the wondrous joy that is pregnancy, that I figured it might be interesting to see what it’d be like to go au natural.


oh boy, I can still square dance!

Fast forward a month or two: FUCK I FORGOT HOW MUCH THIS SUCKS.  Clearly I was getting my karmic due for once blithely bragging to a friend in the midst of menstrual woes about how I didn’t hardly have a period at all anymore and felt great.  WHY must I intermittently feel horrendous and mercilessly bloodthirsty for chocolate according to some mysterious Satanic schedule, and HOLY JESUS what’s with all the BLOOD?  I know you menfolk are cringing right now so please, pardon the fuck out of me very much, but us 52% of the population occasionally needs to break the shackles of your squeamishness and voice our complaints.

Speaking of which, I have another one. During the many years I was enjoying not serving among the ranks of tampon purchasers, it appears that some genius did away with the concept of cardboard applicators.  Wow, plastic is our only option now?  That just makes SO much sense, since there’s simply not enough plastic in the world already.  Plus, the “smooth glide” that plastic provides – reassuringly promoted on a number of brands’ perkily-colored boxes – is just SUCH a concern when the whole, well, AREA is liberally lubricated.  You know, with BLOOD.

Well-trained San Franciscan that I am, I simply cannot throw anything plastic in the “landfill” bin.  Which includes these damn applicators.  I know you’re thinking EW, but they can be WASHED, dammit, and after I do that I make sure they are buried deep, deep in the recycling bin.  I live with a teenage boy and I do not want to accidentally create a horrifically vivid lifelong memory for him by leaving a tampon applicator laying around, one he will know is his (ack!) mother’s, since I’m the only female in the house.

God bless this great gift that is the female body, it’s awesome. 

Next issue:  Who’s Up For A Little Snip-Snip?, or, Family Planning Phase II


8 Responses to “What’s All This Then?”

  1. Pamela December 3, 2012 at 10:52 pm #

    one word: vasectomy. two words: his turn

    • the disgruntler December 4, 2012 at 8:53 pm #

      Indeed! He is chicken. I told him to talk to folks who’ve done it (like Eugene) but he hasn’t. But that’s the Next Issue (no pun intended)!

  2. La Mama December 3, 2012 at 11:15 pm #

    Snip. snip. Only way to go, since you still have at least 8 years of child-bearing potential ahead of you. There are diaphragms of course, but if you think condoms are off putting? And those things matter more as you age and sex becomes a tad more–shall we say difficult? There’s nothing like going through all the trouble of inserting that thing and then one or both of you no longer has any interest. Oh, and I’m not talking snipping your tubes, thank-you. You’ve done your part.

  3. wampamuse December 4, 2012 at 1:01 pm #

    Bloody hell! This was a fun read, though i know the experience is anything but! Love the “shackles of your squeamishness” line. Might have to use that. Ah, womanhood!

    • campmathermatters December 4, 2012 at 3:39 pm #

      How bout the old finger applicator? There are plunger-free tampooons out there –

      • the disgruntler December 4, 2012 at 8:53 pm #

        I know and I do use those sometimes but they sometimes gross me out, depending on the flow of the day, as it were.

  4. marniemasuda December 5, 2012 at 3:36 pm #

    I gotta tangential question: why are they called “applicators”? I hate that. What are you “applying”. Clearly, they are “Inserters”. GET IT RIGHT TAMPONS!!! I love your blog, btw!!

    • the disgruntler December 5, 2012 at 7:53 pm #

      You know, I sort of had this same thought, fleetingly, as I was writing that. Maybe they don’t use “inserters” because that would likely conjure up an image of the reality – that we are putting these inside ourselves – and that perhaps in some circles, that’s simply too sexual,

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