Apparently, I should have read the directions

Boys, this is a TMI girl stuff blog. Consider yourself warned.

It’s been a year now since I got rid of the Fucking Mirena, and my body still isn’t “regular.” This spring, I was convinced I was in perimenopause–what else could explain having a two-week period one month, then no period at all for two months? One of the only good things about spending most of my life on birth control was knowing when I was going to get my period. The past year? Not so much. Talk about an added clothing expense–of course, I only got surprised when wearing my most expensive panties.

When I visited my naturopath, Dr. Rena Bloom of Denver Naturopathic Associates, on Oct. 1, we discussed the fact that I’ve been taking Vitex to combat some of the discomfort from having too much estrogen. Vitex is an herb that is a progesterone precursor. It’s mild, and one of the most prescribed treatments in Europe for PMS and for perimenopausal issues. I liked how I felt on Vitex, but my period still wasn’t regular. She suggested using bioidentical progesterone cream for 14 days a month, which is stronger. I had to stop the Vitex first, which I did when I ran out in mid-October. I started spotting about 10 days later. Yay for that surprise. Then I had three days of intense sugar cravings and depression, followed by four days of heavy period. For god’s sake. I should have bought stock in ob tampons. And stain remover.

Last Monday, I picked up the cream at Dr. Bloom’s office. She prescribed 1/4 tsp twice a day, which is equal to about 40 mg daily–about what the ovaries produce normally. For the first two days, I felt great, with a noticeable difference in my sugar cravings, bloating ,headaches, sleepiness. And then I got my first zit. Not just a little blemish, mind you, but a big, fat, deep, ugly, painful zit under the inner corner of my eyebrow. You know the kind with their own blood supply, that pulses with your heartbeat and then demands its own zipcode? That’s the one. Then I got another on the corner of my nose. And two on my chin. Oh, and look at that lovely whitehead on the upper edge of my lip. And YAY a big cyst-y one right next to my ear! Joy of joys! Name a painful place to get a zit (corner of the mouth? score!) and I have a zit there.

And I noticed that my belly began bloating out. And despite the 3T of daily Benefiber, I started getting constipated. I couldn’t sleep. And then? The mood swings. EVERY FUCKING THING IS ON MY NERVES. The sound of Ryan eating popcorn almost made me want to take our beautiful big ass TV and smash it on the ground. Birds singing? Give me the pellet gun. Steve Carrell? OMFG he makes me want to pull my eyelashes out one by one. Yeah, that kind of getting on my nerves. Counting to 10 only made things worse.

I haven’t been able to sleep with my wedding ring for the past few nights because my hands get so swollen. I’ve had a constant, sick headache. And wow, have I been a bitch. In my head, the words sound nice but once they get to my mouth they turn evil. Whoo mama. Steve told me I could sleep on the couch the other night because I was so poisonous. And the anxiety. I can’t even go there, because of the heart palpitations.

Steve has reacted accordingly as a man by generally being a dick to my bitchiness–from my too-much-progesterone-addled perspective. In reality, he’s probably been pretty tolerant because he’s actually let me sleep in the house. (I would have kicked his ass out if the tables were turned. Lucky for me he’s a nice guy.) Last night I asked him what the fuck his problem was — why he was being so sensitive about everything. He didn’t even flip me off, just decided not to come to bed until I begged him.

Then this morning, it struck me. I am having a horrible, long bout of PMS. PMS on steroids. PMS the size of Arnold Schwartzenegger’s thighs. PMS that is so big it fills my body and the room and the house and the neighborhood and the whole fucking world!!!!

This afternoon, I told Dr. Bloom what’s going on–naturopaths have no problem having short telephone convos with their patients without charging them, which I love.

“What day of your cycle are you on?” she inquired.

I counted, and determined I had started the cream on day 5. Like when the ovaries are already producing progesterone. Which I was adding to.

“Did you not read the directions I gave you? You need to use the cream on days 14 to 28.”

Uh, no.

So, the first experiment on progesterone cream is a massive FAIL. Because I? Knew too much to read the directions, and in my arrogance triggered PMS puberty-style. And upped the Hate Vibe across the Universe to Defcon Go Fuck Yourself.

Now, I get to stop using the cream, and likely for the third time this month will get my period. Which means I get to start counting at day 1 again, and then I’ll start using the cream on Day 14 as I’m supposed to.

That’ll teach me.