On Monday night, I had a Masters thesis meltdown over a new tidbit of information I heard from a friend in the program and yesterday I stormed the anthropology lab on campus, a place I only go now if there’s something wrong, despite the fact that I used to practically live there. I have such a reputation for insanity in the program now that when one of the other, younger grad students opened the door and saw me sitting inside, she burst into hysterical laughter and asked me what was enraging me. Answer: thesis proposal approval stonewalling (or, rather, a complete lack of interest in approving my proposal, which has been complete since May). That is no longer a problem, however, because I am the squeakiest of wheels and got everything I’d been trying to get accomplished all quarter accomplished in fifteen minutes last night simply by being a hugely obnoxious asshole. Sarah: 1. Grad school blackhole: 0. Perhaps this is why people become hugely obnoxious assholes?
Before my fits of rage yesterday, I did some “no period for the rest of time” internet research and stumbled upon “post pill amenorrhea,” which I assume is the grown-up way to say “no period for the rest of time.” Apparently, to be officially suffering from post pill amenorrhea, you must have no periods for six months after stopping hormonal birth control. I finished my last birth control foil packet the last week of April and it is now almost December, so I am going to assume I fit quite nicely into the “PPA” diagnosis. (Yes, I just diagnosed myself using information I gleaned from fitbottomedmamas.com. I’m a doctor now. Didn’t you know?) I know I technically had two periods in those seven months, but they were both products of progesterone, which is supposed to jump-start regularity anyway, and we all now how well that worked out.
Less than 1% of women experience PPA (which is an acronym I think I just made up). The lucky few, eh?