...I'm looking for the pill that's gonna tell me when my period will fall. (See what I did there? I made a rhyme! Rhyming is fun.) I'm also looking for the pill that will make me not want to leap off the roof each month. It's time I stopped pretending that my pre-menstrual symptoms are not disrupting my life, that they'll go away with my next cycle, or the one after that, or when the moon's not full, or when the sun comes out, or when American Idol is done for the season. I have a problem. I need to fix it. This will require breaking my rule of No Medication Unless You're Dying or Have Cramps.
I've always felt a bit hypocritical preaching clean living, what with my excessive daily intake of Sucralose, Cool Whip, fat-free 'cheese' and caffeine. But really, I think I make an admirable effort to eat right, exercise much, avoid medicines for pain and sniffles. I even go without glasses every few days to give my eye muscles a chance to flex. Strong body inside and out is what I'm going for. And in keeping with that policy I have repeatedly declined my doctor's offer of oral contraceptives, year after year since my early twenties. I'm not gonna lie to you; my concerns are mostly superficial. Weight gain, inflating breasts (I like mine small)... And it's really not about birth control -- monogamy (and I mean real monogamy, not like "I swear, baby, you're the only girl I'm doing right now") is the only way I'll relocate my Trojans from the bedside table to the junk drawer. (I love how that sentence gives the impression of a thriving sex life. I am quite a woman on this blog! Note to self: check expiration date on condoms.)
After slogging through an especially rough cycle this past month, something just snapped. Or clicked, let's say it clicked, that sounds a little less "men-in-white-coats-came-to-take-me-away." Something clicked and I realized I'm spending about one third of my life swollen and panic-seized in the clutches of (what is more than likely) PMDD. I must admit to myself that this is not just going to go away; that my body is aging, it's less cooperative, less predictable than it used to be, and for more than a week each month it's beating the peace right out of my mind. And it's not fair. I deserve better! There are new pills on the market. I eat well and run because it does my body good. It only makes sense I should take care of my head, and beat the bloat (which only makes me crazier) while I'm at it. I'm seeing my doctor on Wednesday. New policy, effective immediately: Do What You Must To Be Happy All The Time (Or As Often As Humanly Possible). Viva la Revolucion!