Bleeth and Teeth, Blech

I overdosed last night. Which sounds so Less Than Zero, especially when coupled with my sturm und drang post from yesterday. Of course like a true suburban mom I did not OD on cocaine or heroin, but on hormones. Birth control pills. Yasmin. I'll let you have a moment to think about how crazyhotsexycool I am. (It might help you to picture me in my Honda station wagon, the fresh glitter paint job glinting in the sun, the Cheerios scattered like so many parties. Oh yeah, there you go.)

Wrong Yasmin. In fact, this is Yasmine Bleeth (Whatever happened to her? She should totally be the face of Yasmin), but the photo is a pretty good picture of how I felt, curled up in a ball in bed and then bleething all over the bathroom. Come on, we've all done it, right? Realized we forgot to take a pill at some point and then took two too close together? And then rode out wave after wave of hormone poisoning, hunched over in the bathroom betweens bouts of puke, staring much too closely at that one obligatory stray pubic hair on the floor vowing never to have the sex again if means no more hormones, ever? No? Just me? Well then I guess you also didn't have a dentist appointment first thing the next morning which you did not cancel for godonlyknowswhy, and I guess you did not have to raise one polite hollow finger to make the dental assistant stop scraping your molars so that you could run to the bathroom and throw up some more surrounded by framed illustrations of apples and teeth? Okay, now this is just getting awkward, the sentence structure, the you, the royal we. Alls I'm saying is that it was a morning, much like it was a hockey game for this little boy.

I'm sure he won't forget his birth control pill again any time soon.