Thursday, December 3, 2009

An Open Letter to Generic Birth Control

Dear Generic Birth Control,

Can I call you Previfem? I like to keep things casual.

You and I are just getting acquainted and I have to say, my first impressions were kinda You see, I was expecting magic and happiness and wonder. But I got nausea and dizziness and nausea.

I know the doctor told me to give it time. And it's evident that you're trying (I mean, one day of excruciating cramps? Just one? Heaven. Or kinda more like purgatory since they still suck. But the doctor also gave me some Motrin 800. So yeah, Heaven.) which I totally appreciate, but why do you hate me? Why can't we be friends?

My stomach, as we all know, is sucky and sensitive. My stomach is a bitch. And you, Previfem are not helping. I do not like nausea.

And what's with this swelling thing? Are my boobs not problem enough already? Lord knows I can't eat pretty much anything without the greedy bastards sneaking a drip here and a crumb there. Plus, Corey keeps staring at me and it's totally creeping me out. Oh, and old guys. Old guys dig boobs. It's like, common knowledge.

On top of that, I don't feel all that protected. You can make your promises about controlling birth and stuff, but I am not fooled. You, Previfem, are a liar. Now, I don't know this for a fact, but I have a suspicion that super-fertility runs in my family and I don't like the odds. 99.8% is not enough for me. Except, cramps are your real raison d'etre so whatever. I guess that point is invalid.

Oh, and my mom doesn't like you because she thinks you'll make me all trampy and stuff. When really, I think meth is the drug that does that. But I digress.

I like you, Previfem. I do. I want to be your friend. I come in peace. My doctor said it would take time, but I'm impatient.

Work, damnit!


P.S. Everyone, please dismiss me. I haven't eaten anything today and I've been super-stressed pretty much all afternoon. I'm ridiculous and aware of it.

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