The Ren Test

We went to the Renaissance Festival on Saturday, like dummies, in the hot sun. I thought, at one point, that I might die of low blood sugar and dehydration. And yet we all had fun, I think. As our friend Richard explained it, “All these women are hot. And they’re medieval.”

Sunday Laundry List

Then, on Sunday, my loud, dirty cousins came over. Tad made fried rice. We all played DDR and drank wine. Then we ate birthday cake to celebrate the twelth-birthday-en-ing of my middle child. Also, we looked at my sexy, sexy bead collection and made plans to attend Houston’s October bead show with wholesale license in hand. Woo hoo – domestic bliss.

Female Trouble News Update

I forgot to say that the week before I saw the endocrinologist, I got off the effing Pill.

I’m the kind of person, my friend Rose observes, who lives in the moment when it comes to relationships. I’m a creature of experience. If I’m with a person and they do something weird, I just roll with it. I like to go with the flow. Sometimes someone will annoy me, and I’ll say, “Don’t do that. That’s annoying.” But it’s never a big drama. I don’t like confrontation or ultimatums to ruin a good time.

Then, a year or so later, I’ll be sitting at home alone, and it will suddenly occur to me that I don’t like a certain person anymore. Suddenly, every annoying thing they’ve done will parade through my mind, and I’ll decide that that person is no longer my friend.

“Just like that?” asks Rose.

Yes. Just like that. Because, by then, I’ve already lived through several instances of telling a certain person, “Please don’t do that. That’s annoying. Please don’t be mean to my kids,” or “Please don’t tell me how to conduct my romantic life,” or “Please don’t spy on me while I’m in the shower.”

And the person keeps doing it. They know I don’t like it, but they don’t stop.

At that point, in my mind, there’s no reason to continue hanging out with that person. At the same time, there’s definitely no reason to have a big dramatic conversation with the person, in which I issue ultimatums. “I want you to apologize for poking me in the eye with your chopstick three times, and promise you’ll never do it again, or I’m not going to be your friend anymore.”

What’s the point? I don’t have time to teach people how to behave decently. That’s not my job – I can only do that for my kids. So I quit calling the person. And it’s over.

So, two weeks ago, I did the same thing with the Pill.

They put me on the Pill a year ago to make the double periods stop. They did stop, but, at the same time, I felt tired. And, as I explained to Rose, they affected my mind. Instead of fantasizing about pretty men with black hair, I found myself fantasizing about lemon-filled donuts. All the time. Nothing meant anything to me. I felt like a fat rabbit in a warm hutch, lying down waiting for my next meal all the time.

And then, the double periods came back. And then, I went back to the gynecologist, and she told me, paraphrased, “A year ago I put you on the Pill to stop the double periods, and now your double periods have returned. And, since then, you’ve gained 15 pounds. I know… Maybe losing weight will stop the double periods. Try losing 15 pounds.”

It took me a while to figure it out, and to connect all the annoyances in my mind, but then I did and I decided to get the hell off the Pill.

Go to hell, Pill. I’m not calling you anymore. You were never my friend, and I’m not going to bother asking you to change.

I feel better already. As PJ Harvey would say, I’m happy and bleeding. (And nauseated.) But that’s better than bleeding and lethargic, isn’t it?

Book Corner

Recently I read Oryx and Crake (by Margaret Atwood), and less recently I read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, finally. I enjoyed them both very much. If you haven’t read those yet, you should check them out. Unless you don’t like science fictiony or magicky things, I mean.

Now I’m reading (maybe rereading?) The Beggar Maid, by Alice Munro. She reminds me of Atwood, even though I probably shouldn’t lump them together just because they’re both Canadian and write about children bullying each other near bridges.

Also, as far as not-books are concerned, I’ve been reading Project Rungay. Go there now, because that shit is super hilarious.

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Posted in books, domestic, health, photos, venting on 10/02/2006 01:46 pm

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