In which Wren discusses her VAGINA.

Seriously. And, because I am polite, there is spoiler text. :D

About this time last year I went on medication for bipolar I disorder. About a month into that, we realized that my birth control pills, that I had been on for three years and loved so very much, were no longer going to function properly thanks to enzyme competition (I will not wax poetic here involving enzyme sites and uptake rates.) Now, I am not actually on birth control for the sex. I'm on it to deal with yet another medical disorder which causes the lining of my uterus to thicken and cysts to develop in my fallopian tubes and other such ridiculously wrong nonsense. Biologically, this translates to vastly irregular periods that are very painful and involve a lot of blood. A lot. of blood.

So, I'd gone through that in high school, and was pretty used to this "yay, my nethers are behaving normally! :D" Unfortunately, in all honesty, it was is more important for my brain to be behaving normally. My psychiatrist went "oh, it's fine, we'll just find some other sort of birth control."

And thus began the long and often scary quest I have fondly titled "How Many Bizarre Things Can I Stick in My Vay-Jay-Jay?" (My personal favorite was the plastic ring I was supposed to just wedge up there for three weeks at a time and ignore.)

Unfortunately, plastic ring or pill, they all were working with the exact same enzymes that were no longer available thanks to the bipolar disorder medication. My psychiatrist's response? "Just use condoms." My response? "I'm thinking that's a bad idea."

And then I had my first real period off the meds. No one died, luckily, but several pints of ice cream bore the brunt of my rage. "Fuck this," my newly-sane brain said, and my rather pissed-off poon agreed. So off to the gynecologist we went! (Which is anatomically logical, but still amusing to say.)

I explained my problems to her, and her response was "Don't worry about it! We deal with this all the time. We'll just give you an IUD!"

For the record, crotches wince.

But, after some explanation, things settled down a bit. They're not made from copper anymore, but a nice, innocuous plastic that secretes progesterone. I get it put in and can leave it be for six years, and that's it. Even better, there is a good chance I will stop having periods completely. Granted, it is still a T-shaped piece of plastic just chilling in my uterus, but better that than babies.

How could I say no? I'll spare you the details of its insertion. Know simply that I am NEVER having children and walking was the only thing that was painless for four days.

My housemates (who also have vaginas, or at least like vaginas enough to talk to me about mine) quickly dubbed my IUD Gandalf-- "YOU SHALL NOT PASS." Trust me, all the parallels between the bridge, the Balrog, and any possible joke involving orcs have been made, so shut up. (Also, you're welcome for that image. There's spoiler text for a reason!)

Gandalf and I didn't get along at first. I was told I might have "some spotting" for the first two months, but nothing prepared me for the constant existence of blood where blood should not be. Three months. Three months of me going "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, VAGINA, GIVE UP!" Or, "THE SWORD JOKES WERE METAPHORICAL, GANDALF." At this point the rats still lived in the bathroom, so these outbursts garnered multiple pairs of beady-eyed stares. More than once I considered taking the damn thing out and just getting an ablation.

But! But! It's finally paying off! I've not had a period in two months, which makes me beyond happy.

Unfortunately, I discovered last night that while I may not actually bleed anymore, I still have a sort of PMS where I sacrifice chocolate ice cream to the random craving gods. With a diabolical frequency.

All in all, though, I'd say it's worth it.

*devours pint*