I started hormonal birth control when I was 14 (and just for the record, it didn’t make me want to have wild and unprotected sex). I spent my high school and college years with clear skin and a period that was easy breezy. I would happily go to cheerleading or track practice while on my period in high school. I would still go out for a run downtown or do a barre workout while on my period in college.
“What’s everyone always complaining about?” I thought to myself. “Cramps aren’t THAT bad. Periods are THAT bad. You lady folk are really blowing this out of proportion.”
And then, eight years later, I stopped pumping hormones into my body. And like magic, I suddenly had the period everyone was talking about. Two months after I stopped the pill I thought maybe I should go back on it. I restarted the pill and proceeded to have a 21-day period.
It was just as awesome as it sounds.
With that sound of the alarm, I listened to my body, and promptly stopped the pill. Again.
Since then, I’ve lost some weight, I discovered I don’t have naturally beautiful and clear skin, and every five days out of 40, exercise and eating healthy are basically the equivalent to spooning my own eyes out or learning how to fly. I want to curl up in a ball under my blankets with a stockpile of Chipotle, Buffalo Wild Wings, and frozen yogurt, talk about my feelings, and not come out.
It turns out, real periods suck. Like… really suck, you guys.