Today really tested the limits of my patience. It started out nicely enough. As of this morning I’ve lost 18lbs and despite the oh….million more I’ve got to go, I’m pretty encouraged that I can keep this up. So that’s the good news.

Now, for the other stuff. I should warn you that precipice for all of this borders on TMI, but then – this whole blog pretty much does that, so – whatever, you’re all grown ups, you can take it. The fertility specialist I’m seeing (the lady who started this whole “weight loss” thing) put me on birth control, which sounds…insane (at least it did to me), but her expert opinion is that being on birth control while I’m trying to lose weight will preserve and possibly enhance my fertility for when my body is actually “ready” to start makin’ the babies. She explained it much fancier and science-y-er than that – but, that’s pretty much the jist.

So, the birth control she prescribed, besides having the dumbest, most humiliating name ever given to a pharmaceutical has unleashed upon me the longest, gnarliest, horror-show like period I’ve ever had in my entire. life. As of today we’re talking 3 weeks, 5 days and 21 hours. And it’s not just the mildly inconvenient, pest that most periods are. It’s what I like to call a Dario Argento period.

This morning I met with my doctor to make sure I wasn’t going to die, basically and she assured me not. What she could not promise is that I won’t go insane. And, let me tell you people – it’s already happening. On the way to the doctor traffic was crazy, I couldn’t find a parking place, blah blah blah and after my appointment I got lost trying to find my way out of the under-construction hospital, so by the time I made it to my car I was already in an inconsolable loon state. But, then – I realized the person parked next to my driver side was parked so crooked and so far into my lane that I couldn’t walk between to open my door. Our bumpers were less than an inch apart.

I had to walk around the front and squeeze between our cars to get to my door, then I could barely open the door at all and had to squeeze inside which almost tore my coat. Something inside me completely snapped. I wanted to key their car. I wanted to take a baseball bat to the windshield. I settled for writing a chicken-scratched note on an old Wendy’s napkin, it went something like this:

Learn how to park.

You suck.

I hope you die.

Fuck you very much!

Later, when I regained my ability to think rationally I felt kind of bad. Like, this person was parked at a hospital after all. I mean, what if they are dying and I just like, totally rubbed it in. Then I thought. Whatever. Fuck them. They should learn how to park.

See? Crazy.