Chemical concoction

Or, to be more accurate, hormonal concoction.

Yesterday I went to the ‘contraception and sexual health clinic’. They’ve renamed it. It used to be the Family Planning clinic, but I guess that’s not entirely accurate, because a lot of us women go there to prevent families from happening.

Whoever thought up it’s current name has no sympathy for those of us who only ever remember to make appointments during work hours, from our desks.

So I was off to the ‘Thursday night’ clinic. My colleagues do not need to know about by sexual health. I guess somehow I think you do though…

Anywho.
I’ve been getting the most persistent and recurring headaches for about a year. Recently they’ve intensified to daily. It is misery.

When asked if my ‘medical history’ had changed I dutifully told my nurse/health person yes it had and I was going to see a neurologist about my headaches.

Turns out, it could be the pill. Everything is the fucking pill. Depression, mood swings, no libido; all the pill’s fault.

(I have decided the pill is an evil stealth device. On the surface it ‘liberates’ women, removing the threat of pregnancy from their sexual relationships. Underneath this attractive pretence it’s side effects include keeping women in their place, keeping the down, and keeping them out of the bedroom – the reason they’re on the pill in the first place.)

So, I have changed pill again. I’m progesterone only now don’t y’know.
And guess what? So far it feels fucking great.

I have had hardly any headache today. I feel full of wild energy, which is something I have hella missed since swapping pills last time (pill before last gave me mad mood swings, I missed the manic bit) and I am totally hot with two t’s.

It’s Friday. I am oestrogen lite. Let’s party.