I'm a pill on "The Pill"

I am a walking contradiction. I have no problem poisoning my body, with massive quantities of booze—I’ve even thrown weekend get togethers called ‘Liver Damage [Insert Year]’--or smoking so many cigarettes in a given night that I am blowing black soot out of my nose, and I would like to remind the reader my fixation with diet coke. In the name of experimentation I’ve thrown powder up my nose, pills into the back of my throat and smoked something laced with an ‘I’m not sure’. I am no stranger to putting crap into my body.

So when I sat down and spoke to my gyno a few weeks ago and told him about some girly issues (I know a majority of my readers are guys so, I’ll spare you the details) he suggested I go on birth control pills. When he said that, I balked. There was no way that I was going to put a chemical into my body that doesn't make me feel less anxious, happier, feels sexy, some how ease my stress, or make me lose weight. Secondly, I know far too many women who’ve been transformed by “The Pill”—and not in the way my feminist sisters promised of sexual revolutionaries. I’ve watched perfectly brilliant, capable, STABLE women become absolute psychos crying at the drop of a hat, engage in hypo-manic fits and heard horror stories of the weight gain. Craving an extra large Hershey’s cannot be good for you, even if it is 85% dark chocolate.

When I voiced my concerns about the weight gain issue, because let’s be real, that is the only one that actually matters, he told me that not all pills cause weight gain. And he jarred my memory. Evidently, according to the tv commercials, Yasmin is known to actually help you lose a few pounds.

All of my neo-hypocritical hippy shit went out the window. Honestly, treating my [insert girly issue] didn’t fucking matter. It’s a pain but not that bothersome. However, there is the pesky freshman fifteen that I have not managed to lose yet—and I am three years out of college. Theoretically, could I sit on my fat ass as the weight magically disappeared? Plus, wishful thinking, if I found a guy, I could actually *gasp* possibly have sex with him without a condom and not think about baby names the next day.

And, the most important reason—I would lose weight!

Fucking sign my ass up! I am going to take advantage of all that my feminist predecessors fought so hard for.

Even if I still haven’t read the Feminist Mystique.

So I went on “The Pill”.

On the first day, I was at my parent’s house and took “The Pill”. Within an hour I felt a leg cramp. Evidently, this is a common side effect from what I have been researching on the internet. I did not know this at the time.

My mother, who has no idea that I started birth control, starts to talk about a friend of the family who developed a blood clot and passed away that weekend. I immediately think to myself, “Oh my God, a good CATHOLIC woman who was probably not on birth control developed a blood clot and me, a potential whore of Babylon is taking “The Pill” which is known to increase the risks of blood clots.”

“So, she was in their home, and started to complain of a sharp pains in her leg,” my mom said.

The cramp in my leg gets even stronger.

“And she lost feeling in her leg,” she continued.

My calf begins to feel a bit numb.

“So her son told her to hop into the car, and as they were driving to the hospital, she died. Isn’t that awful, Shannon?”

My face goes white, but I can’t tell my mom why I am so freaked out.

“Mom, I have a sharp shooting pain in my leg, do you think that could be a blood clot?” I abruptly change the subject to me.

“Shannon, of course not! Stop the crap! But isn’t that such an awful way to die? Just as her son was driving her to the hospital. It’s such a pity. You will never find a nicer woman than her.”

Now readers, I would like to interject and disrupt the flow of the story to really impart the fear and anxiety that I was experiencing at that moment. Not only do I suffer from hypochondria (ask me about the sunflower seed incident and my “allergy” to nuts), and severe anxiety issues and am prone to bouts of depression when I am not in my normal manic state but, I also I have this incredible fear of sudden death. Like, when I am extra stressed, I will actually lay awake some nights, not allowing myself to go to sleep because I am afraid that I won’t wake up.

I flip out and start to pace back and forth in my living room, thinking I was going to die.

Here it is, this kind Jesus loving, altruistic, compassionate, prime example of Christian living suddenly died from a blood clot, for an undetermined reason. I, on the other hand, a harlot who renounced Jesus in college, who supposedly went on the pill for [insert girly problem] but really went on it because of a secret desire to experience condom-less sex at the Ox, had severe leg cramps. Plus I kept touching the back of my calf and pacing back and forth and thinking I had the beginning of a blood clot.

And just as I was about to launch into a panic attack, I had one of the most severe urges to take a nap that I had ever felt, overcome by pure lethargy.

I fell asleep on the couch and awoke to intense nausea.

This continues into the next day. I stay at my parent’s house overnight because being close to my mommy is the only thing that will bring relief—even though she doesn’t know the true reason why I am so clingy and want to hang out with her.

In my sick anxious world, only her presence can ward off any bad that I have coming to me.

The next day, I start to feel a bit better, and with my nerves subsiding I plan to head back into the city that night. Anyway, the real reason why I need to head back that night is that she’s starting to get on my nerves by hour number thirty-six. However, as good as I was feeling at home, thinking that the worst of it had passed, the nausea comes back (now I know why everyone loses weight—they can’t eat!). And on the train, I still feel tired, but on the bright side I am no longer afraid of the blood clots anymore. I think the Grim Reaper only had it out for non-sinners that week.

So eleven days later, I still feel like shit. Doing research to see if I am “normal” via internet chat rooms and other ill-moderated sources of (mis) information, I see a lot of my symptoms are side effects of “The Pill”. That makes me feel better. I know it isn’t just in my head or my hypochondria kicking in. However, I see a fucking disturbing trend as I am conducting my highly unscientific anecdotal research—almost all of the women comment about the side effect of lack of sex drive.

Wait a fucking minute. It has to be an anomaly, right? I mean, why the fuck would a woman go on a birth control pill that is only going to end up killing her libido?! I mean, if I am going to throw shit into my body, I want a positive affect. ORGASMS! Who the hell could live without an orgasm!? Isn’t that why women go on the pill anyway (well outside medical purposes) so they can fuck with abandon?! But oh no, it appears to be a common side effect. What kind of sick anti-woman pharmaceutical industry are we held captive by where it is a perfectly ok side effect that my libido is shot!?

But, despite the lack of wanting to fuck, the nausea, the lethargy, and overall yuckiness that I am feeling right now from this fucking revolutionary spoil, is because of the listed manufacturer’s side effect that it exacerbates depression and anxiety. After reading this, I think you understand that I have enough anxiety manufactured in my own fucked up psyche that I do not need some chemical to help induce what I already over-produce.

Especially going off to the Ox in the next two month, and the stress of all of my illusions of grandeur, there is no way that I am not going to miss that side effect. Considering how I am getting all of the other ones. Remembering the shit I went through in college how I almost had to go on meds and needing to take a semester off, I’m afraid of going through it again. Especially since my family, the only thing that grounds me, would be a seven hour flight away.

It’s just not fucking worth it. Even if the positive side effect is weight loss.

So, I am flushing my pills down the toilet.

After I talk to the doctor tomorrow about switching to a different brand.