unwanted: my uterus

That my friends is a uterus.  (And yes, you can thank me for not posting an image of a real uterus.)

It looks all innocent… but no, don’t let it fool you… it’s evil.  PURE EVIL.

Normally, I’ve got that little bastard under control.  I’ve got little happy no-baby pills that would sedate it to a tolerable level.  But no job means no insurance and no income, which both mean no more happy no-baby pills.  (I actually only started birth control just to get my menstrual cycle in check.  Then came the added benefits of better complexion and no babies.)

This leaves me a mess.  Not a crazy emotional mess.  No, just a shriveled in the corner, DEAR GOD STOP THE PAIN mess.  My body temperature fluctuates so I can’t get comfortable.  At times, I start shaking…  And the cramps.  It’s like a vice grip, running of the bulls, and slam-dancing mosh pit of angry midgets wearing steal-toed clogs all at once.  All happening inside you.   (Yeah, guys? Imaging someone slamming your balls inside you then squeezing them tightly for 4-5 days straight.)

There have been cycles in my past where I’ve just wanted to give up.  I wanted the doctors to roll in and remove that damn organ from my body.  At some point, I might want kids — and though I am serious about looking into adoption, I’m not sure I want to give up the option of creating some sort of offspring with a future spouse.

So until then, I just have to wait until I can afford my happy no-baby pills again… and load up on ibuprofen and muscle relaxers.

The up side to my period?  I use menstrual cups and therefor never have to waste money on pads and tampons again.  So at least this monthly drain of my system isn’t also draining my bank account.