On birth control I am curvy, my body is full. Wearing a red bikini, sexy but depressed. Overall, emotions and psyche are not responding favorably to artificial hormones. On the beach in Hua hin I walk heavily with a heart believed to be broken by the graphic designer I met twice and corresponded with on Facebook messenger mostly through emoticons. Walking into the sea I cry a little as the waves of the gulf crash against my thighs. I begin floating on the salt water while quietly sobbing for love. I stand up. I look across the horizon where the other side of Thailand must be. I imagine the men there, smooth and elegant. Then I stop thinking about men and about myself. Once in the Bahamas when I was 19 and went on birth control for the first time, the sun burned my skin to the second degree. As a result of this sun burn I left the hotel room only at night, to float in the pool and stare sadly at the moon.
Swimming back the way I came, out of the water I feel better... With a sense that the common themes in life appearing as obstacles are becoming transparent and manageable. Later, arriving in Bangkok to meet with a friend, we drink a ton of tequila. I begin to fear everyone. I imagine the Russian tourists we befriended are attempting to kidnap us. I run away and fall into the street. My friend helps me and holds onto me. Stumbling towards the hotel we take a short cut through Soi Cowboy, Bangkok's red light party district. I cry silently, tears streaming while looking at the old sexpats with dramatic accusation.
Waking up midday with confusion and a scraped knee, I decide to stop taking yaz, a popular birth control pill made by Bayer