Bing... Bing... Bing... Plunk.

Up until this point I've miraculously avoided it, but this past Saturday night it finally happened. After just over 16 months of flawlessly using the medication, I dropped a birth control pill down the bathroom sink... never to be recovered. It was the very last of the active pills before the placebo ones, too.

Now, to someone normal, this may not seem like that big of a deal. But to me-- someone obsessed with bodily functions and the fluctuations of my hormonal and menstrual cycles, this was a huge problem. So when the shock of it finally wore off and I stopped trying to unscrew the impossibly tight drain trap from underneath the sink with only my bare hands, I burst into tears.

I'd just been thinking about my late grandmother and had been having a little bit of a cry when I decided it was time for my medications and to go to sleep, and then the little pill fiasco played out, so crying at that point wasn't really a lame thing to do, I don't think. My emotions were already on high from like blah blah blah thirty minutes prior.

I immediately called Matt, and he laughed at me and told me not to worry. But secretly I was petrified that I'd thrown off my delicate balance of artificial and natural hormones and would somehow convince my body that the next time I got some would be the perfect time to start a family, which although I talk about it all the time isn't exactly what I want right this minute... So I didn't really calm down until I went to the pharmacy today to refill a prescription and spoke with the pharmacist who put me at ease and said most likely the biggest change I'll see will be that I'll get my period a day earlier than normal. Phew.

Anyway, so the crisis is over and just to reconfirm to myself and everyone else-- I'm still a spaz.