Not On Anything

So, I've been on the pill for like twelve years. (Just kidding Dad, I'm waiting for marriage.) (Anyone's marriage. Anyone's at all.) (oh my god that was a bad jokes. sorry, it's early.)

Anyway, so I've been on the pill for like twelve years. But as I've said, I'm weaning myself off some things because I want to see what I'm like without all the stuff. Not that the pill is like mood altering drugs for schizophrenia or bipolar disorder or something, but for some reason in my head I'm sure it's like stopping your lithium, or going cold turkey on heroin. Probably because I've been taking it for so long, and am soooooo paranoid about it (you're welcome past boyfriends), like I've missed one pill in the entire decade (and that I only missed because I fell asleep before putting it in my mouth and then woke up at 3am, remembered, reached over to take it but dropped it into my suitcase, and then the water I was holding was apparently way too heavy for my sleepy hand to hold anymore, and so I slowly dumped it out onto my suitcase, in essence watering my pill that was planted in my vacation clothes (it stopped all suitcase babies). I guess my 3am brain thinks as long as the thing gets some water we're all good.)

So, because it has been such a staple in my life I felt really weird about stopping it, like I was actually going to visibly change, get fatter, or suddenly start growing blonde hair in my downstairs or something. I took my last pill, and threw it into the trash can in slow motion (well, I slowly lowered it in and pretended it was falling all on it's own in slow motion while I sang the theme from Chariots of Fire), and then called Becky in to look at my empty pack of pills.

"Why am I looking at trash?"

"That's my pill pack."

"Do you need me to go get you some more?"

"No, I'm done. I'm officially off the pill."

" . . ."

"I'm all natural Amy now."

". . ."

"Do I look different?"

"A little dumber."

"Don't hate because I'm fully a woman now."

"This is why I stay late at work you know. So we don't have to have talks like this."

"I think I'm changing right before your eyes."

"Good lord."


Anyway, it's been almost two months and so far I'm totally the same, except now just a little bit more pregnant.

Just kidding.

But I am not having my period (sorry all male readers!). Which is nice, I guess. Sorta. But also very weird. And I'm for sure not pregnant - I hear you have to have sex to get pregnant. Even still, just in case God decided to f with me and knock me up via immaculation, I've peed on anything with an absorbent tip in a five mile radius. So we're all good on the not having the Jesus baby front, but still . . . no period. Weird.

And you know how (and sorry again, to any remaining males who tried to soldier on) they say women get on each others cycles? Like, my mom used to get pissed when they'd all get on my cycle cause it meant I was the alpha dog, and she's the alpha always, she's the Cesar Milan of women's cycles (you have to just ignore it, just ignore your period and let it know you don't care that it's throwing a tantrum. then give it exercise.) - so I'm thinking maybe to get it to happen I should just go find someone who's Aunt Flo is visiting and press my pelvis up against their's. You know, just to get things started around here.

Or share a bed, and drink out of the same water cup as them or something, because this shit is weird. And was not one of the side effects that I was hoping for - "Do the curtains match the drapes?" "Not anymore!" Not that anyone except thirteen year old boys in movies about the 50s, talking about a red head, would ever say that but still, how cool would that have been!

Now, excuse me but I have to go stalk the feminine hygiene aisle of the grocery store so I can press myself up against a stranger buying some tampons. Or at least show the box to my baby making area and just hope that my period is drawn to the light blue box, like a moth to a flame.