He puts the can of Pringles on the counter, telling me to help myself if I want. I don't particularly want, but I am curious to see him bring home Pringles from work. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asks.

"I've just never seen you eat Pringles before." It's been about four years, you'd think it would have come up by now.

"No," he replies. "That's because I love Pringles." He is quick to remind me that he's never seen me consume a Cheeto, even though the crunchy ones were a childhood favorite. If you can't have just one, then I guess you really shouldn't have any.

Boys, beware.

The last three-plus years have been enlightening in many ways health-wise. In 2006, me and my health care provider decided that Depo-Provera would be an excellent choice for birth control considering that I had always had painful menstrual cycles (which you no longer experience once on the drug). Well, we know now that I have a couple of disfigured uteruses. Nonetheless, the Depo served its purpose and I had nearly four years without the all too familiar symptoms.

My last injection expired in October, which I did not renew due to the surgery I was scheduled to have in November. I was not told that there would be withdrawal symptoms, but I honestly don't know my body anymore. I called the clinic after coming down with the first migraine headache that I had had in almost four years and was told that some patients due report "menopause-like symptoms" after coming off of Depo-Provera. WHAT!? I walked over to my aunt's desk at work to see if she had some migraine medication at her desk (I've talked about Brenda's desk before) and admitted my stupidity that, "In all the years that I have been headache free, I never connected that they stopped once I stopped having periods." I guess I just assumed that it was a gift from the heavens for all the lousy things that had happened. You may be divorced and motherless, but hey! Your headaches are gone! Woo!

It's a nice thought, anyway.

My thermostat is wonky, one minute I'm so cold my teeth chatter, and then the next minute I could swear that my blood had come to a boil in my veins. My hair is growing in faster and thicker, and with a mind of its own (which should be a good symptom, but I've grown accustomed to stretching my hair appointments to every three months!). My toenails suddenly grow out so fast and thick that I could use them blades to kick an intruder a week after trimming.

My complexion…well, it's been swell. I've been relatively clear-faced throughout my 20s, but my significant other was kind enough to point out an uncommon outbreak along my hairline last week. My order for Proactiv should arrive any day now. My expired stuff cleared everything up in a few days. I imagine the un-expired stuff would work even better.

Then there are the aches. I hesitate to use the word "cramp" due to the reaction it causes in Nick who had a not so good experience with a date at a movie theatre before he knew me.

I am in a general state of soreness all the time, so I did not expect a little bit more once a month to be any big deal. Okay, well these extra "aches" have not gone away over the past two months, and they just put you in a downright confrontational state of mind. No joke. Did you seriously just put a cup down without a coaster? CAN'T YOU SEE THAT I AM IN PAIN? GET A COASTER!

I also find myself arguing more with Sophie. I don't know if this is a withdrawal symptom or simply further evidence of my reduced mental state, but I generally feel better after a hearty philosophical debate with the cat. She just really seems to get it in ways that humans do not.

I know it could be a year before the effects of the birth control wear off, and I hope this awfulness abates by then, or my doctor has mentioned the "H" word as the next step. A friend at work doesn't know why they didn't do the "H" in the first place, leaving one less target for the potential disease. Indeed, I would be fine with them removing any and every unnecessary organ, I just get a little nervous with them deciding the kidney according to the flip of a coin.

And just like that, the snow globe flips back over and everything is ethereal and perfect again! I start singing carols loudly and jovially, and Sophie runs and hides before the high crashes and I crave an ontological discussion on existence. Please don't shake me. Just let the glitter settle. Thanks.

I tried the silky texture of a peppermint flavored creamer and thought, "I need to get more of this."

I pulled on my first pair ever of chenille socks, and simple pleasure of wearing them had me thinking, "I need to get more of these."


The thing is, it's always "more" that I want. I did not stop after that first sip of peppermint-laced coffee and enjoy the taste, and I was not content to just wiggle my toes in those luxurious socks. We pulled the Christmas decorations out today, and I had a moment of realization as I placed the ornaments on the tree.

I ran my hands over the tin soldiers and rocking horses that Aunt Brenda painted, the Norwegian rosemaling from my Grandma wishing me "God Jul", and did not want more. They were always my most favorite ornaments growing up, and when I was old enough to have my own tree, my mother passed them along to me. As I hung Nick's collection of ornaments on the tree, he'd try to guess, "My grandma made that for me in...1982?" There is one from what must be every year of his childhood and then some.

I am sure I could search online for hand-painted ornaments, Norwegian Christmas rosemaling, or those with hand-stitching, but we have all we need: we have a lifetime of love hanging on the tree. That's enough. In a world of want, this time of year strikes me as rife with fulfillment.