Some time ago, I heard Snarky mention that she was taking herself off birth control pills for a month, just "to give [her] body a break."
I thought that sounded nice. Ahhhhh.
So when I ran out of my supply of pills and realized I would have to jump through the (understandable-but-annoying) hoops my Voldemort's office requires, I thought perhaps instead I would take a brief hiatus. I would give my body a break. Ahhhhh.
Can't you just here the tinkling of chimes? Smell the sage? See the breezy woman wearing white and sipping tea and looking incredibly at peace with herself and the world, a la feminine hygiene commercials?
Yes, I know you can.
Except, well. As I sit here with lower back pain, unremitting fatigue, caffeine cravings resulting in both sleeplessness and canker sores, bloating, an inability to concentrate, embattled motor skills, extreme emotional sensitivity, and a realization that the cramps haven't even begun yet, it has occurred to me that going off birth control is not actually giving my body a break, because in fact I HAD BEEN ON A BREAK FOR THE LAST FIVE YEARS.
It's not even that my hormones are imbalanced, it's that THEY ARE TRYING TO ESCAPE MY BODY. They are forcing their way out of me in the form of gross awful disgusting oily secretions that have produced (among other ungainly blemishes all about the landscape of my lumpy, achy body) THE ZIT THAT ATE SAN FRANCISCO. The hormones, they are not happy. They enjoyed the drugs.
They want them back.
And believe me. They shall have them.