On the 5th of every month, bloggers from around the world are open to write about rights and issues concerning women. First started by Shine and Marie, we’re hoping to bring a variety of women’s issues to the forefront to make people aware of what’s going on. For the month of May, we’ve chosen to write about Women’s Reproductive Rights and Issues. Please join us in telling us your stories, thoughts, and ideas on a monthly basis. To read the first installment, click here.
This post is not going to be some diatribe about freaking the eff out on the boyfriend/husband/stranger on the bus because “he sniffed funny” in your general direction, and then blaming this behavior on the monthly cycle we ladies know and loathe. (Oh please, Gods of Foot-in-Mouth, don’t let anyone post about said bashed topic.)
Nay, I’d like to talk about the mother eff of a conundrum in which we ladies find ourselves when it comes to selecting a birth control method. I’d like to be PC and include the boys in this, but...well...y’all have the luxury of a fairly simple choice between one of a few birth control methods, none of which suck even an eighth as much as the choices with which we’re left. (Not hating on y’all. I speak the truf.)
It has been a while since Natty got her groove back, but after a few years (SHUT UP) of being pill-free, I am all sorts of pissed off about my options when it comes to keeping my body sans baby when the time does come to once again frolic among the birds and bees. Having been on the pill for almost ten years (stop doing the math...yes, I was young) when I discontinued, I didn’t realize how pervasive were the effects of those little bastards (God bless ‘em) on my body, my moods, my appetite, my sex drive, etc. It’s wacky, y’all! And after two years (and counting...) of being hormone-free (well, of artificial, elective ones, anyway), I’ve never felt better or more capable of keeping my shit in check. (Which is pretty huge considering my "mood moments" sometimes resulted in hurled books--preferably large hardbacks--and abusive behavior toward customer services reps at any given utility company. But seriously, aside from that, I was an absolute peach. Don’t know why things didn’t work out with the dude.) (/sarc)
See, most of the truly effective methods of birth control are as such because of hormones. (I’m not really including abstinence in my discussion of BCMs; though, obviously, I don’t discount that method. I mean, HELLO.) They alter the way our bodies work (by halting ovulation, thinning the lining of the uterus, thickening the cervical mucus...sexy, right?) to ensure that there aren't any unplanned, pigtailed, baby Hot Messes running amuck.
Moreover, I believe that many of the unpleasant side effects are intended to keep the sex from happening in the first place because, let's face it, folks, there is no better insurance against babies than proceeding sans sexing. (Unless you're the Virgin Mary, in which case hormones are likely the least of your worries, Mommy Jesus.) I mean, being an emotional A-bomb is a sure fire way to keep from getting pregnant seeing as how NO ONE WANTS TO BE NEAR YOU when you're vacillating between tears and rage every two minutes.* I swear, it's a conspiracy that the no-baby pill/device-makers have expertly designed, making us ladies look like total basket cases so that we (a) don't steal their jobs (which we could likely do with our eyes closed and in five-inch Christian Louboutins) and (b) don't call our boyfriends/husbands/friendboys on their idiotic behavior. Clearly, we're hysterical. (/sarc) (duh.)
What the hell was I talking about?
Oh yeah, so it totally sucks that in order to utilize safe, effective birth control, I pretty much have to sacrifice my sound mind and lovely countenance. OR! I could use one of those hormone-free contraptions and only risk sacrificing the walls of my uterus.
Oh, the joys of being a lady. (Do I even need to tag this?! Me thinks not.)
*I realize that not everyone experiences the emotional ups-and-downs (to put it really effing mildly) that I did while on the pill, but none of the side effects are generally enjoyable. Except for the bigger boobs. Which I never got. Sonofa.