EC Post

Having run out of the Pill and faced with the possibility of Getting Some recently, I decided to behave like a responsible adult and purchase some emergency contraception. You know, to prevent a real emergency. Now, while it is technically possible to purchase EC as long as you are over seventeen and can get yourself to a participating pharmacy it is a little trickier than it would first appear.

Assuming you can get to a Wallgreen's or CVS where they don't let wingnut pharmacists supercede your decision, you should be free and clear for takeoff, assuming you have fifty bucks. Unfortunately, I had to go to three different drugstores to find an open pharmacy. In downtown Chicago. At noon. On a Saturday. When do the managers think people run their errands? I'm just lucky I was downtown where I could walk to these various stores, and not the the middle of BFI. What if I'd had to drive? I know, this is run-of-the-mill capitalism and corporate stupidity and not a plot of the Religious Right, but I was pissed. At least it didn't take the whole of my lunch hour.

And now, for the strange part. Burning with righteous indignation (not unlike Dante in Hell), and not a little desperation, I made my way to the pharmacy in the back of the third store. And suddenly, I was afraid. Of what? I'm not all that sure. That I wouldn't have enough money? No, I had plenty, plus a non-maxed-out credit card. That I would be refused? No, because CVS doesn't allow that. That it would be broadcast through the store? No, because no pharmacy allows that, even in my more paranoid imaginings. Perhaps it was because someone would know I was planning to have sex. If it ever came up with my parents that I was on the Pill, I could always tell them that it was because my periods are irregular, which is true. Unfortunately, I have no such excuse for condoms and EC. I don't know why I didn't feel that way when I bought condoms a while back, but I didn't. I generally believe I have a very healthy view of sex, probably a little more liberal than the norm. And yet I didn't want someone who knew plenty of far more damning secrets and had much better things to do than broadcast them to know I was going to be Dirty. This, I believe, is what I get for living a few miles down from the Moral Majority headquarters and reading the Indianpolis Star editorial page during my formative years.

So now, I am filled with righteous indignation once again. How dare a bunch of old farts and their deluded minions make me feel guilty for doing one of the most natural things in the world. If I can have sex safely, why shouldn't I?

The end of the story is that I managed to get my EC with no hassle if some expense. I didn't end up needing it, but there's time. I am so calling my gyno on Monday. I shall say it loud and say it proud in the words of Hot Head Paisan: NO GUILT!