Kontraceptive Question Korner!*

January 9, 2006 by Wendy

For the past week I have been taking my birth control pills one day ahead of schedule. What can I say? I live for the future. I took my Monday pill on Sunday and I took Tuesday’s pill today. I’m trying to figure out how this happened. Possible explanations: a.) took two pills in one day by mistake; b.) traversed a wormhole and then space curved back over on itself; c.) briefly lapsed into an undiagnosed multiple personality, also on the Pill; d.) neglected to calculate variations between menstrual cycle and Gregorian calendar and forgot to take the special Leap Pill that I need to take once every four years, or months, or… something.

But really I think I just took two pills in one day by mistake, most likely sometime over the holidays when I had a lot of days off and the weekends were long. I do remember one day around 10 am where I glanced at my pill card and thought, oh my stars! A pill untook! and popped it, because Heaven knows, I need to keep my skin clear. I’ve checked online and asked around enough to know there isn’t any immediate problem, but now I’m wondering what the hell to do when I get to the end of the pack. Do I just skip a day when I get to the Mystery Pills in the final week? Will my Start Day be henceforth one day ahead? Can I fix all this if I fly west to Japan? Any ideas? Anyone?

And lest you worry that I’m letting a bunch of online strangers tinker with my pharmaceutically-regulated woman-rhythms, I am waiting to hear back from my doctor about this. Just thought I’d share in the meantime.

*Kutesy title spelling intended to evade Google searches by kurious folks, konfused teens, or extremist kooks.

Time for Plan Brat!

November 17, 2005 by Wendy

Ladies! Are you sick of getting the stink-eye whenever you bring your small children to froofy coffeehouses? Tired of having to take them to some sticky McDonaldLand to turn them loose? Or maybe you keep reading about those snotty parents who seem to feel no compunction about letting their spawn run amok in grown-up places and find yourself wishing that you could act that entitled and self-righteous. Looks fun, doesn’t it?

But where can you take your kids, relax a little, and impose your own values on strangers? Forget those twee little bakeries with their overpriced scones and tin ceilings: Why not take your kids to the pharmacy at Target instead? Or Rite Aid? Or Walgreen’s? Any pharmacy, in fact, with a policy of employing pharmacists who believe children are so special, they think it’s a shame when you try to not conceive them. These nice people in white coats will be thrilled to host your rambunctious toddlers for a couple hours while you shop. Sure, they make it hard for you to get Plan B, but you can always count on them for a big dose of Plan Wheeeee!

Who says a pharmacy isn’t a kid-friendly place? Some of these pharmacists like children so much, they want you to have the ones you didn’t even mean to have! And when you think about it, pharmacies are awesome places for young children to run and play, especially behind that door marked PRIVATE (Go on in! These folks don’t care about privacy!) which leads to a wonderful land of bottles and jars to shake shake shake. Plus plenty of childproof caps to challenge them, hundreds of colorful little beadies to count, lots of new words to learn (Say it: “Meth-o-trex-ate.”) and no shortage of arthritic elderly friends to trip up. Really, it’s like a Montessori school with Muzak.
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The shocking truth

November 7, 2005 by Wendy

There is something I need to tell you. I mean, you’re going to find out anyway, but I thought I’d tell you first: I’m really Tyra Banks in a fat suit.

Yes, I know that all this time you thought I was just a chubby white girl. I’m sure it sheds light on a lot of things, such as my inexplicable personal happiness. Well, now you know I’m happy because, hello! I’m Tyra Banks! I have my own production company! And here you thought I was just happy because I ate all the pies!

No doubt it all makes sense now. You’ve probably wondered how I managed to ever accomplish anything, what with all the obese-person stuff I have to do every day, like shuffling sadly down the street, getting my big fat feelings hurt by store clerks, and being rejected by dull little metrosexual men. I’m glad I’m Tyra Banks and don’t have to do those things all the time. Well, except for eating KFC. I’d do THAT all the time! Ha ha!

(You know, it’s only okay to laugh because I’m Tyra Banks and I have a syndicated talk show (check your local listings!). If I was a real fat person the laughter would HURT. You know that time I made the girls on ANTM wear stiletto heels two sizes too small? Like that, but in the soul.)

I know it comes as a shock to learn that I’m Tyra Banks wearing a fat suit, but I hope it makes America aware that really, everyone afflicted by obesity has a beautiful person wearing him or her, too, and that deep down, they all feel real supermodel feelings. Who knows who you might find inside an obese person? Maybe Naomi Campbell, who’s actually quite pretty though hardly the household name I’ve become, is trapped inside an obese person’s body. Or maybe she really is obese now. I would like to state for the record, as an honorary obese person, that either way would be fine with me.

That’s all for now. Don’t miss Drag Queen Makeovers on Tuesday! Love, Tyra.

Forever's gonna start tonight!

August 24, 2005 by Wendy

I haven’t even told you of my return to the ranks of the Weight Watchful Ones, have I? That I rejoined WW about a month ago? I’d been doing it online on and off for awhile, but for the past month I have been going to actual meetings in real life, the real world of flesh and blood; of membership cards; of yet more flesh weighed in on real fucking scales in front of other actual live people and everything. Oh, the humanity, and so much of it ON ME.

So it seems I’m fighting again: I’m back in The Shit. Lately I’m more willing to do everything I ought to. I eat mostly the CORE foods but follow the FLEX plan. I have heard this referred to as “Flexcore,” which sounds more like a godforsaken metal subgenre than a way of eating, but it seems to be working. I look up the points information for almost everything. I check the points listing for the Panera menu at DWLZ and Dottie breaks the bad news to me in Comic Sans. And the current new name/slogan/tagline/operating paradigm for the whole WW Program is “Turn Around,” which unfortunately causes excerpts from the song “Total Eclipse of the Heart” by Bonnie Tyler to spiral through my head for at least a half hour after each meeting.

(Did you click that last link? You really should have waited for me to warn you.)

The first week I lost nothing, the second week I lost a bit, the third week I either lost nothing or gained back the bit, but I’ll never know because I skipped that week; subequently this last week I either lost nothing or lost the same bit again. I have a feeling my weight loss is going to progress at about the same pace as an Apartment 3-G storyline, but, hey, it’s something. And I’ll keep you posted.

Summer reruns

August 4, 2005 by Wendy

Oh, wow, the comments still keep trickling in about the Sun-Times editorial. I don’t have much more to say about the Dove ads right now, but I thought I’d bring back a couple of body-image-related entries from my old online journal. They both date back to 2001 and they haven’t been available online for almost two years but they’re in the new (and slowly growing) archives. Since these are four years old now I have to resist a terrible impulse to heavily revise them; I did edit them a little.

Imaginary Fat People is from July 2001. Part of it is about fat suits–that summer the previews for Shallow Hal were running in the theatres, America’s Sweethearts had come out, and Fat Monica was a big fat stereotype-on-a-stick, and it seemed a good time to say something. And Screw Shari is from May 2001. It’s a rant on this dumb survey I read about in Marie Claire, and it’s nowhere near as high-minded.

I liked book touring but I really, really like not touring, too. I know I’m still slightly recovering because there are some days when my routine existence suddenly feels like a big bouquet of retardedly simple pleasures. I get to go places using my own car! When I am done with work I get to come home! After dinner I can take a walk! And in the park by my home there are dogs, and flowers, and the Righteously Outrageous Twirling Corps practicing their routines, and everything. So I’m going to enjoy all that for awhile, if that’s okay with you.