- Joined
- Jun 28, 2006
- Posts
- 1,669
- Media
- 2
- Likes
- 67
- Points
- 193
- Age
- 41
- Location
- Austin, Texas
- Sexuality
- 60% Straight, 40% Gay
- Gender
- Female
The Preamble:
I remember with such clarity a particular day in my eighteenth year when I walked into my mother's room. She was standing, folding clothes on the bed. I asked her in a very confrontational voice, albeit casually so, if I could start taking ortho-tricyclen. She put down the shirt she was wrestling with and frowned the way she does at everything, asking "What's that?"
I said it plainly without expression: "It's birth control."
Her mouth had hung open after she'd asked the question and still hung agape as something passed over her face. She blinked once and seemed to look me up and down for a moment, as if she was seeing me for the first time. "Yeah." She replied. I gave no farewells in exiting the room. A lot of our conversations are still like that.
I was on birth control for the next four years. I switched several brands during the process. I don't really recall the names well, but one of them gave me horrible cramps (I rarely have them..ever) where I could barely stand. Another caused my breasts to swell an entire cup size bigger, but made them hurt so terribly. (Id' like to take the time here to say that I never even had breasts until I began birth control.) Another brand made me dizzy and gave me dry mouth. The one thing that all of them had in common though: They made me seriously bi-polar.
Moods...everywhere. I'm talking girly, dramatic, emotional, "I'm the victim, why doesn't anyone love me?" bi-fucking-psycho-polar. I've not been on the pill for the past two years now and I've never felt better in my life, but since I'm a sexually active person, and I can't stand condoms, I would like to be on something to insure the safety of the status quo. Specifically: I'm young. I don't want kids right now.
So I've made it a point to find out about as many birth control methods for women as possible. I knew that there were patches, shots, and pills, but a friend of mine told me about another relatively new one she'd heard of.
The Story:
My friend Shelly (that's not her real name, btw) is dating a new guy everytime I talk to her. The majority of my friends are social butterflies, to the point where if I want to see a couple of them, calling them isn't even necessary. I know that if I go downtown on certain nights, there are certain clubs that I can go to where I know I will see at least ten people I know. I can then walk across the street to another bar or club and find ten more. Shelly is usually always downtown with a new beau on her arm or on the dancefloor.
Myself and five other ladies were sitting on the tastefully fenced in patio of Beauty Bar on 7th and Red River, all having cigarettes over our mixed drinks or martinis, pretending we were looking around at what everyone else was wearing. Inside there was a sizeable dance floor forming as the dj popped on another house record and matched the beats. A man wearing a striped collared shirt with an orange ascot leaned against the far wall, smoking a clove. A motorcycle pulled up on the other side of the railing, parking next to the bicycles that were all locked to the tasteful and decorative fence that seperated us from the street. The patio's the front of the club, the only visible part, and always packed. Getting up from your chair meant you just might lose it. Sitting there gives me the impression that we're trying to show the entire street that we're so cool at this club that we didn't even need walls or a ceiling.
The girls were all quite drunk by this point, all chattering and clucking like hens. Every now and then, someone's conversation would cross over into another and the girl speaking would realize that she was getting more attention and would raise her voice a bit higher so everyone else could hear her awesome story. I pressed my cigarette into the ash tray in the middle of the table and picked up my drink and took a long straw-sip from my screwdriver as Shelly's voice escalated above the rest of the group. She was saying "So I got the patch a few months back y'know?" Us girls all nodded. "Well I got tired of the thing, because you can't put it in the same spot two months in a row and it's just...got this sticky shit and it's...well anyway. So I got on this new birth control and I was seeing that guy" she paused to look over at April to her right and pointed at her "you know which one I'm talking about." April nodded, laughed, and took a sip from her mojito before passing it over to Shelly, who also took a sip.
"Mmm..thanks honey." She handed it back. "Anyway, we got really drunk one night after Drum and Bass night at Plush and I went home with the guy..." here she kinda rolled her eyes and made a hand motion like she was spreading something, palms up, on the table "and we fucked. So, I was so hungover when I woke up the next morning, but he wasn't there because he'd gone to work...thankfully." She took another drag off her cigarette. "Thank, GAWD.
"So I didn't see him again until the next weekend and Alex's party. There was a keg and about fifty people there, but mostly in the backyard. It was early in the night when the guy approached me and asked to speak with me privately. He took me into the kitchen, where there were a couple other people, so I figured it couldn't have been that important." She took another drag off her cigarette, more for a suspense effect than anything, I think. "So he reaches in his pocket and pulls something out and goes 'Um......I didn't want to say anything last weekend, but this came out of your pussy while we were fucking. What the fuck is this about? Are you into that kinda shit?'"
A couple of the girls at the table burst out laughing, but myself and another were sitting dumbfounded. Then Shelly yells "And he hands me my fucking Nuva-Ring. I was so angry with him that I snatched it from his hand and called him a fucking idiot right to his face. He stuck around the party another thirty minutes and left, I hope out of shame."
She went on to explain to us that you put the ring up 1n th4r for an entire month and it releases the chemicals to keep you baby-free. I'd never heard of such a thing, and obviously the guy she'd fucked hadn't either. Poor guy. lol
The Nuva Ring
I remember with such clarity a particular day in my eighteenth year when I walked into my mother's room. She was standing, folding clothes on the bed. I asked her in a very confrontational voice, albeit casually so, if I could start taking ortho-tricyclen. She put down the shirt she was wrestling with and frowned the way she does at everything, asking "What's that?"
I said it plainly without expression: "It's birth control."
Her mouth had hung open after she'd asked the question and still hung agape as something passed over her face. She blinked once and seemed to look me up and down for a moment, as if she was seeing me for the first time. "Yeah." She replied. I gave no farewells in exiting the room. A lot of our conversations are still like that.
I was on birth control for the next four years. I switched several brands during the process. I don't really recall the names well, but one of them gave me horrible cramps (I rarely have them..ever) where I could barely stand. Another caused my breasts to swell an entire cup size bigger, but made them hurt so terribly. (Id' like to take the time here to say that I never even had breasts until I began birth control.) Another brand made me dizzy and gave me dry mouth. The one thing that all of them had in common though: They made me seriously bi-polar.
Moods...everywhere. I'm talking girly, dramatic, emotional, "I'm the victim, why doesn't anyone love me?" bi-fucking-psycho-polar. I've not been on the pill for the past two years now and I've never felt better in my life, but since I'm a sexually active person, and I can't stand condoms, I would like to be on something to insure the safety of the status quo. Specifically: I'm young. I don't want kids right now.
So I've made it a point to find out about as many birth control methods for women as possible. I knew that there were patches, shots, and pills, but a friend of mine told me about another relatively new one she'd heard of.
The Story:
My friend Shelly (that's not her real name, btw) is dating a new guy everytime I talk to her. The majority of my friends are social butterflies, to the point where if I want to see a couple of them, calling them isn't even necessary. I know that if I go downtown on certain nights, there are certain clubs that I can go to where I know I will see at least ten people I know. I can then walk across the street to another bar or club and find ten more. Shelly is usually always downtown with a new beau on her arm or on the dancefloor.
Myself and five other ladies were sitting on the tastefully fenced in patio of Beauty Bar on 7th and Red River, all having cigarettes over our mixed drinks or martinis, pretending we were looking around at what everyone else was wearing. Inside there was a sizeable dance floor forming as the dj popped on another house record and matched the beats. A man wearing a striped collared shirt with an orange ascot leaned against the far wall, smoking a clove. A motorcycle pulled up on the other side of the railing, parking next to the bicycles that were all locked to the tasteful and decorative fence that seperated us from the street. The patio's the front of the club, the only visible part, and always packed. Getting up from your chair meant you just might lose it. Sitting there gives me the impression that we're trying to show the entire street that we're so cool at this club that we didn't even need walls or a ceiling.
The girls were all quite drunk by this point, all chattering and clucking like hens. Every now and then, someone's conversation would cross over into another and the girl speaking would realize that she was getting more attention and would raise her voice a bit higher so everyone else could hear her awesome story. I pressed my cigarette into the ash tray in the middle of the table and picked up my drink and took a long straw-sip from my screwdriver as Shelly's voice escalated above the rest of the group. She was saying "So I got the patch a few months back y'know?" Us girls all nodded. "Well I got tired of the thing, because you can't put it in the same spot two months in a row and it's just...got this sticky shit and it's...well anyway. So I got on this new birth control and I was seeing that guy" she paused to look over at April to her right and pointed at her "you know which one I'm talking about." April nodded, laughed, and took a sip from her mojito before passing it over to Shelly, who also took a sip.
"Mmm..thanks honey." She handed it back. "Anyway, we got really drunk one night after Drum and Bass night at Plush and I went home with the guy..." here she kinda rolled her eyes and made a hand motion like she was spreading something, palms up, on the table "and we fucked. So, I was so hungover when I woke up the next morning, but he wasn't there because he'd gone to work...thankfully." She took another drag off her cigarette. "Thank, GAWD.
"So I didn't see him again until the next weekend and Alex's party. There was a keg and about fifty people there, but mostly in the backyard. It was early in the night when the guy approached me and asked to speak with me privately. He took me into the kitchen, where there were a couple other people, so I figured it couldn't have been that important." She took another drag off her cigarette, more for a suspense effect than anything, I think. "So he reaches in his pocket and pulls something out and goes 'Um......I didn't want to say anything last weekend, but this came out of your pussy while we were fucking. What the fuck is this about? Are you into that kinda shit?'"
A couple of the girls at the table burst out laughing, but myself and another were sitting dumbfounded. Then Shelly yells "And he hands me my fucking Nuva-Ring. I was so angry with him that I snatched it from his hand and called him a fucking idiot right to his face. He stuck around the party another thirty minutes and left, I hope out of shame."
She went on to explain to us that you put the ring up 1n th4r for an entire month and it releases the chemicals to keep you baby-free. I'd never heard of such a thing, and obviously the guy she'd fucked hadn't either. Poor guy. lol
The Nuva Ring
