‘Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret’ Updated For Adult Women Who Frequently Change Birth Control, by Ginny Hogan
Are you there god? It’s me, Margaret. I go by Mags now. Last time we chatted, I had just gotten my period. A lot has happened since. I’m 26 now, but my body is still going through continual changes.
It all started in college. When I was 21, my boyfriend Damien said, “Do I really need to wear a condom every time we have sex? Why don’t you just go on the Pill?”
So I went to my gynecologist, and she gave me the Pill. But then I started crying everyday at 4 p.m. and 9 p.m. I asked Nancy if this was normal, and she assured me that it was.
“Our bodies are just changing,” she told me. “All women go through this. It’s just part of being a female in a world where birth control is entirely our responsibility.” Nancy knew everything.
The mood swings were too much, though. “Is there anything else I can try?” I asked my gynecologist. She gave me the NuvaRing. It’s like a wedding ring, but instead of a romantic partner putting it on your finger as a sign of your life-long commitment, you put it in your own vagina every month to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Please help me, God. Keep me safe. Don’t let the NuvaRing also cause acne. I can’t be a 26-year-old with acne. Not again.
The NuvaRing made me bloated. Also, men kept using it as an excuse not to finger me because they’re universally terrible. Anyway, it’s no secret in my family that my grandma pays for my gym membership. She called me recently. She wanted to know if my boyfriend was Jewish. That’s a ridiculous question, because of course I don’t ask someone their religion on a first Tinder date. Grandma is so silly. Then she told me I clearly wasn’t using my Equinox membership enough, re: bloating, and I told her it was the NuvaRing.
“Is it supposed to make me gain weight?” I asked my gynecologist. “No,” she said. “Well, it has,” I told her confidently.
“No, that’s just your poor diet,” she responded. “Have you considered drinking less beer?”
I hadn’t. Disheartened, I called Nancy and asked for a referral to a new gynecologist.
We went to drinks. Nancy’s tits looked amazing. I couldn’t stop staring at them. “What kind of birth control is she on?” I wondered to myself, and “Should I switch to it?” Maybe Nancy had just been doing her breast-augmentation exercises for 14 years. We must, we must, we must…ah, I give up. There’s no way that works. Anyway, God, I loved looking at her tits so much I think I might be gay. Honestly, these days, it seems like all my female friends are trying it. Is that so wrong? I’d love your thoughts on this one, God.
I called my mom to talk about my body’s changes. She said, “Why don’t you just get off birth control all together, Mags? Get married, have kids? Be more Catholic.”
So I stopped using the NuvaRing, and I started discharging frequently. It was always clear, though. It’s amazing how my body keeps changing, God! They didn’t warn me about this one in middle school sex ed. I had experienced brown discharge when I first started the Pill, but this was a new, exciting development.
I decided I’d just use birth control when I had sex—I was going freelance. I bought the “Birth Control Sponge.” It’s a sponge you put up your vagina when you’re having intercourse. It was okay, but using a sponge always reminded me of how many dirty dishes I had piled up in my sink, so I couldn’t concentrate on orgasming. And, between you and me, God, I took more than a medically recommended amount of Plan B during that time. The last time I took it I got so nauseous that I decided maybe having a baby isn’t that bad. Is this what’s supposed to happen to my body?
Eventually, when I was 25, the President said he was going to take away our birth control. Nancy told me I had better get an IUD while I still could. “Get a copper one,” she told me. “It’ll last through this administration.”
When I asked my gynecologist about the copper IUD, she told me it would make my periods way heavier and more painful. I didn’t want that, so I settled for a Mirena.
My gynecologist inserted my Mirena IUD, and boy oh boy did it hurt. “This is just part of being a woman,” I told myself through gritted teeth. “God, you wouldn’t have made me a lady if I couldn’t handle this type of physical pain.”
With the IUD, I stopped getting my period entirely, which meant every month I was sure I was pregnant. I just wish someone had told me what happens when you become a woman and stop getting your period because of an IUD. I haven’t bled in six months, but honestly, I still wear a tampon anytime I’m wearing white pants.
Anyway, God, it was nice to catch up. It’s just so crazy that my body has been going through all these changes well past puberty and far into adulthood. Being a woman is fun!
P.S. God, anytime a male celebrity owns up to sexual misconduct, one of my razor bumps disappears forever. Is this something you’re doing? Because if so, THANK YOU! I’ll tell everyone you’re real. If it’s not you, should I just assume it’s Oprah?