Juice Delivery for Blueprint Cleanse

Did I mention tired? Since the new year started, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of input vs. output in my life, and the scales have recently tipped towards too much input again. I’ve had too many nights out on top of stressful days at work, resulting in zero downtime. I love my friends, and you can’t reschedule birthdays, the first day their new bar opens or their black tie party in a fancy suite at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel. And that’s just in the past three days … this is really my life.

Last week I hit a wall and stopped wanting to talk to people, to answer text messages or to answer the phone. Here’s where the Blueprint Cleanse comes in. Luckily, I was smart enough to schedule delivery of their “Excavation Cleanse” as soon as I got back from SXSW.

I learned about Blueprint Cleanse back in December 2006 during my first week in New York. My friend Todd, who is consistently in amazing shape, was raving about it. He said he did it once or twice a year. I checked out the website and while it looked interesting, it was too expensive for me at the time since I moved here without having a job lined up.

Fast forward and I need that cleanse. I need it a lot. I need to detox from all the food and booze and, even more than that, I need an excuse to say no to every single invitation I receive this week. And since I can’t eat or drink booze (or even caffeine), this cleanse suits me nicely.

Want to see what I’m going to be drinking for the next 3 days? Watch my YouTube video below (it’s a little over 5 minutes, just short enough to squeeze into your lunch break).

I’ll have six different juice blends for three days and hopefully emerge lighter (emotionally speaking), healthier and a bit less wound up. Wish me luck.

For more information on Blueprint Cleanse, visit their website here.

For more information on using juice cleanses/fasts for detox and health purposes there is some good information on Steve Pavlina’s blog here.

Please leave a comment there if you enjoy. It’s a very cool crowdsourced project, and highlights great writing about people’s daily lives.

I was reading something on my phone, then I looked up and electricity passed between my heart and his. You know that feeling. When you see someone in the crowd and your heart flip-flops. You get a chill that starts at the base of your spine, spreads to your stomach and ends with the hair standing up on back of your neck. You just know. I know within seconds if a person is going to be a real part of my life.

I looked back down at my phone. Tried to avoid his eyes. Looked back up, and he was straight up staring at me. He was gorgeous. A head of dark, thick curly hair and curious eyes. Tall. And still staring.

At the next stop, people piled in and he wound up pushed up against the train door next to me. Directly in front of me, a homeless man with a cart was smashed up against the pole. His back was to me, and a pic was sticking up out of his afro. I stared at it to avoid staring back at the man next to me.

Another stop went by. I couldn’t not talk to him. I turned to him and asked him if he had a piece of gum. I’m standing there, dressed up like a doll with a little purse and fancy shoes, asking for a piece of gum. He rustled around in the pockets of his leather jacket, dug around in his bag. No dice. He said, “Sorry, I don’t.” A beat passed. “I wish I did.” I was in.

He asked me what I was all dressed up for. Told him where I was headed, and he asked if I had any favorites for the awards. It turns out that he’s a filmmaker. Time was running out to chat. I missed my stop. I always miss my stop. The homeless man was getting dangerously close to backing right into me. His pic was in my face.

I told the man I’d give him five dollars if he would grab the pic out of the homeless man’s hair and put it in his own hair. He laughed and said he’d give me a hundred dollars to take it out and put it in mine. I refused on principle. Which principle, I’m not sure. But there it was … time to get off the train. I looked up at him, said it was nice to meet him and went on my way. He didn’t ask for my number. I took it to mean he was either uninterested or unmotivated.

A couple of nights later, my friend Tracey posted a cheeky ad on Craigslist trying to get rid of a couch that her and her husband believed to be possessed. My eyes wandered to the sidebar and I saw it: Missed Connections. I thought, “Nah. That doesn’t really happen.” I clicked nonetheless. I clicked back a couple days, since I had seen him on Sunday night and it was now Tuesday.

And there it was, in very big letters:

You needed gum for the oscar party – m4w

Reply to: pers-xxxxx@craigslist.org
Date: 2009-02-23, 12:11AM

And you stayed on the a train for an extra stop. I should have grabbed the afro pick when I had the chance.

You have no real relationship or kinship to someone if they haven’t woven you into their narrative.

This concept drives trillions of dollars every year. Word of mouth marketing . . . have you heard of it?

Stepping away from business, though, I have had occasion to think about this again and ponder it for quite some time over the past few weeks.

It’s something I started thinking about last year, and now that’s come up several times in just a few days, I’m taking it as a sign to pay attention and internalize it.

Playing around on the beach in Isla Holbox (in the Mexican Carribbean) August 2009

First example: A relationship ends, and not cleanly or cut and dried. While you’re still friends with the person, you hear the other person sharing stories about experiences he’s just had with another woman … places they explored together, meals they’ve shared. There are pictures, inside jokes. You understand (or should understand) that it’s time to move on. He has woven another woman into his story in a way that is meaningful to him. There is little room for you.

Second example: You feel an instant bond with someone you meet and you enjoy each other’s company. You find her hitting the nail on the head when she listens to your problems and offers feedback. You find yourself lending weight to her opinions and begin to value her. You find yourself talking about her insight with other people in your circle. “When I told her this, she said that.” Boom. She’s part of your story.

Third example: Someone who you’ve spent little time with seems to understand you pretty well without much effort on your part. Without much fanfare, he lets you know that he’s written a blog and he’s included a “callback” referring to a joke you made a few days earlier. This is funny to you because you had already read the post before he alerted you and you knew that callback was included for your benefit. Mutual admiration is at work, and you’re now each part of the other person’s story.

All of this has me refocusing on input versus output. I’m pouring so much of my time and attention into things that have no meaningful place in my story. I can only read so many blogs/websites/case studies. Why not abandon a few them and replace them with my friends’ work? How about that? Paying genuine attention to the people I love and admire instead of strangers. I have so many smart, talented friends that I can easily replace some of my daily intake of “expert” with the content they work so hard to produce. (These thoughts started shortly before this relevant post by my friend Morgan.)

If I’m managing input, I should be paying that much more attention to output. I’ve been spending more time here and on my other site writing. It has felt wonderful to experience this release, the spill of words on a page again.

Stories aren’t just on paper or on a screen. My story is how I interact with you, what I give to you and what I take from you.

I want my story to be:
Incredibly powerful
Memorable
Passionate
Emotional
Inspiring
Breathtaking
Embraceable
Uplifting
Nourishing

When I meet you, I want to contribute these memories to your story:
She was intelligent.
She was talented.
She was beautiful.
She was driven.
She was genuine.
She was enthusiastic.
She was devoted.

I need to bring life into balance this year. For me, balance isn’t 40 hours of work and 20 hours of play. My balance is switching back and forth between the hot tub and the cold plunge pool, experiencing the refreshing shock of change whenever I need it and feeling that much more alive for it.

I want work…deep intense challenges in my career with problems I don’t know how to solve yet. I want an intensely fulfilling relationship with someone who’s ready to stand still and pay attention and then hold on for dear life to the center of our relationship while we push each other to excel at those things we’re driven to succeed in. I want to turn off the spigot of superficial interactions and channel the flow of my attention into the people who matter most.

This is my narrative. I’m paying attention to my story, and to the characters in it.

Click the photo to see notes on my “stuff.”

What's In Yo Bag?

My bag’s contents vary on a weekly basis. If I’m working on my food website or attending a lot of technology or social media events, I usually have three cameras on me (a Sony Cyber-shot, a Flip Mino and a Kodak Zi8). If it’s a crazy time at work, as it is for me now, I have my Blackberry on me (in addition to my ever-present iPhone). If I’ve been traveling, anything goes; magazines, scarves, cords for my electronics and luggage claim tickets galore. At any given time, there are about 6 kinds of chapstick or lipgloss. I can’t live without the stuff.

As many of us refocus on getting organized and ridding our lives of clutter for 2010, I wanted to finally snap a shot of my bag for the Flickr pool. It’s a fun way to memorialize a relatively calm couple of days before work craziness takes over my life again next week.

Click the photo to see notes on what everything is in this picture. And while you’re there, check out some of the other photos. What’s in your bag? Leave a comment here. Better yet, take a photo and add it to the Flickr pool and include the link in your comment or Twitpic it to me (@EmilysPearl).

Wishing you a Happy New Year that’s as full as a busy NYC girl’s bag!

My Foursquare checkins - I'm all over the map. Literally.

Above is a map of all of the places I’ve visited and checked in over the past year using the location-based social network Foursquare. The application allows you to gain points, win “badges” and share your location with people that you’ve allowed to see your checkins. It has also recently become another way for local businesses to award its loyal customers with discounts or freebies after checking in.

I’ve been an avid user of Foursquare since Spring and love being able to see when my friends are nearby. I’ve even been in neighborhoods I don’t know that well and opened the application to find restaurants, bars and boutiques that are close to me.

I occasionally look at my Foursquare stats and it shows me a few interesting details about my travel and consumption habits. Businesses would kill to get this kind of data on its consumers. If I told you how many times I checked at coffee shops, it would make sense for you to want to send me coupons or free coffee-related products.

In addition to simply conveying your location to your friends, you can also add details to your checkins as far as what the occasion is or who you’re with and share that information on Twitter, Facebook or your blog. If you saw the number and types of restaurants I visit on a weekly basis, or the types of parties I attend, it would give you a good sense of my social circle and tastes in bars and eateries.

At the very least, I can see from the map above that I’m exploring Brooklyn and lower Manhattan like it’s my job. But Harlem and Astoria still feel like the ends of the earth for me! Here’s to pushing my boundaries in 2010.

Where To Find Me on the Web

Foursquare

Gowalla

Twitter

Tumblr

Yelp

12Seconds

YouTube

Flickr

Blip.fm

Blip.tv

Delicious

Pandora

Posted in Social Media, Technology Tagged: branding, foursquare, Life, nyc, socialmedia, socialweb, Technology ]]> http://emilycavalier.com/2009/12/21/emily-all-over-the-map-and-the-web/feed/ 3 Emily Cavalier foursquare http://emilycavalier.com/2009/08/30/hit-house/ http://emilycavalier.com/2009/08/30/hit-house/#comments Sun, 30 Aug 2009 22:59:50 +0000 Emily C. http://emilycavalier.com/?p=557 Continue reading →]]> “Yes, that’s it. Guys, I just want you to pay attention here, okay?”

It was Saturday morning and I was in practice with the junior dance company. I was 11 years old, in a room with girls ranging from 10 to 14 along with my dance teacher, Mark.

I stood with my back to the mirror, a short distance away from the barre. A couple of fellow dancers to my left, Mark to my right. Hands lightly on my hips, I pulsed my ribcage so my chest stuck out and my back curved. Then I showed the girls what the move looked like when I pulsed my ribcage inwards, sucking my belly in to meet my back, chest sinking. Mark laughed, “That’s exactly right.”

It was important that we do that step with the body popping out to the beat, not sinking in. It was a jazz/hip-hop number called “Hit House,” and we were performing in the Florida Show Stoppers competition with it in a few months. There would be several performances first at shopping malls and retirement homes, but we had to stick it in practice on Saturdays so we didn’t look messy.

I loved getting things right. I was never an athlete, but dancing instilled competitiveness in me from age 8 onwards. Getting things right or painfully, awkwardly wrong were the best ways to get attention so I aimed always for the former.

When I got things right, I got to show off for my fellow dancers. When I got things wrong, though, something more valuable happened.

On a Wednesday night, the first class is ballet. Warm up on the barre is grueling. There are stretches that make your calves burn like someone dug into them with a small, blunt hunting knife and wiggled it around between the muscles and the tendons. I’m still correcting bad form learned from a careless teacher my first year of dancing while at a different school. Sometimes, while I hold my arm out during a sequence of pliés, instead of creating the graceful graduated curve from shoulder to fingers, my elbow drops, interrupting the proper slope, ruining the line.

Mark will catch me, every time. Whether I’m being lazy or just negligent. Or, you know, just paying more attention to the burning pain radiating from my heels through my calves as I go into the third set of grand pliés. If my elbow drops for even a moment as I come up and complete the plié, he is on me, yelling, scolding.

Do you know what happens when he corrects me? Even when he is so angry that little bits of spit fly out of his mouth and onto my face as he corrects me? I say, “Thank you.” I say it out loud. “Thank you.”

Then I have his attention in the right way. It’s no longer about how my elbow dropped, or how much my calves are burning. It’s a teacher and his student, learning. I’m learning and paying attention to him, as he has paid attention to me. People who don’t care about you will let you continue to make stupid mistakes. It takes effort to care, effort to take time out to say, “You’re doing it wrong.”

In situations where I respect the people I’m dealing with, I appreciate and seek out their advice and correction. Sometimes I know I’m steering a rough course, making wrong turns. I may not automatically reroute when a friend or colleague says, “You’re doing it wrong,” because I’m stubborn. But I will listen to the people in my life. And a few days, weeks or months later when I take their correction and it makes things right, I say, “Thank you.”

God provides: I emailed someone about an apt. Thursday night, heard back from her Friday, saw the apartment Sat. morning before I headed to the beach and by the time I got home from the beach I had a new apartment and an appointment to sign the lease Sunday morning. And it’s in my neighborhood in Brooklyn, but only a half hour from my office in the city.

I’m working on big things now. Cleaning out your brain to focus on what you really want, while keeping your karma in clean, working order is no joke. The whole scenario above happened after I spent a happy, relaxing Sunday in Central Park listening to this musician I’m now really impressed by: Santogold.

She inspires me because she’s so young, but she’s doing whatever she wants musically. She’s had her hands in everything – writing other people’s blockbuster hits, collaborating out of nowhere with big names. And she doesn’t fit into any one genre, which I love. I love every track but one on her album. So, I wanted to share one with you, and also share an email I sent to someone about moving to New York. Funny I found myself needing to move just a few days after sending him the email.

My song of the moment: “Shove It,” by Santogold. Never have there been more perfect words for my life.

First video. Then lyrics. Then the email I wrote to a MySpace friend who asked me for some advice on moving here to NYC next month:

Lyrics:

Brooklyn we go hard
We on the look for the advantage, we work hard
And if we seem to rough it up a bit
We broke but we rich at heart
Pull ourselves up now we won’t choke
It’s our time, put the lights on us

War tactics, they make me sick
Reel your heart in, run away with it
Smile in your face, undermine your back
Got guns for the strength they lack
So if you know another way
You can’t look the other way
If you know another way,
Tell them so right to their face

We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine

I pay for what’s called
Eccentricity and my will to evolve
I hear them all say
That I got heart
but not everything that it takes

Taint my mind but not my soul
Tell you I got fire
I won’t sell it for no payroll
Let ‘em hold me down
I know if I know another way
I can’t look the other way
I know another way
I’ll tell them so right to their face

We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine
We think you’re a joke
Shove your hope where it don’t shine

And, lastly, the email to my friend. This is for anyone else who may eventually want to move to this great city of New York.

“Hi ______!

Congrats on making the decision. That’s the first step. The next is committing to it! Once you start hearing yourself telling your friends and family that you’re moving, you know it’s really (and let me be the first to welcome you here – we’ll be waitin’ for ya!)

I will tell you up front from what I have heard that it is very difficult to get a job before you move here. It would be better for you to even find a friend who lives here, list their address as yours on your resume and perhaps even get a local cell number. The reason for this is that so many people SAY they’re moving then wind up not taking the leap. Companies don’t want to gamble on that.

That said, I moved here without a job with only about $1K to get me by. I was temping while I was looking for a job in my field and wound up staying for the company I temped for and have done very well. It’s not the end-all, but I’m happy and passionate about it and have done well financially.

So, you could at least start with a temp agency – this will allow you the flexibility to interview for jobs you really want while still pulling in enough of a paycheck to at least cover rent.

Craigslist is your bff – make it your b*tch to get an idea of other jobs you could do here while you’re looking for “the one.” I hear you’re looking for stuff in the event industry here – if you’re not familiar with BizBash, I’d suggest starting your job search there. ([I know] the CEO, perhaps I can ask him for more leads if this isn’t the type of stuff you’re looking for).

Craigslist is also your bff for finding apartments. I basically went on clist, called/emailed 20 people whose listings looked good and spent a day going to six of them (I had only one close friend here, and she came around with me to make sure they were safe areas/non-shady people). Wound up taking the first one I looked at and I still live here 1.5 years later. Please don’t take my experience as normal – I was very lucky but I don’t want to give you a bullshit picture of the moving experience. It’s important to find a bunch of places in your price range cause if they are all open house showings, people show up, money and references in hand and they go quickly.

You can find apts. in nearly any price range if you’re willing to leave in a closet in bumfuck. If you want to live here badly enough, just get here and the rest will work itself out. You’ll find a job and six months later will be able to look for a nicer, bigger, more geographically desirable space. Be willing to live in the boroughs if you don’t have a ton to spend right now. I live in Brooklyn and LOVE it though I hate commuting.

My timeline was that I made the decision to move in May, and my goal was to get here by New Year’s Eve as that’s my favorite holiday. I didn’t actually start doing stuff until end of Sept. You’ll obviously have to condense things as you have a month. This is how I did it:

* 9/25 made a list of bills / commitments I’d have to take care of before I bounced (utilities as I was splitting an apt. at that time and that tenant was staying behind, etc.)
* 10/2 listing everything I could on eBay / made deals with friends to sell off my shit (all my furniture, TV, stereo equipment -basically anything of value that I could get money for I sold)
* 10/9 contact headhunter / temp agencies (I didn’t do this step then, but I did set up my first job interviews then)
* 10/16 compile master list of all jobs I was interested in applying for
* 10/23 have all resumes out to the above list
* 10/30 follow up calls / send additional info to the above
* 11/6 double-check for additional jobs to apply for, give notice at current job
* 11/13 schedule job interviews in NYC
* 11/20 start looking at craigslist for apts. (for move-in date between dec. 15-jan. 1)
* 11/27 have all money for rent/deposit, reserve moving truck
* 12/4 schedule apt. visits
* 12/11 choose apt., pack
* 12/16 move

To see how all that played out, you can read some of my blogs about moving here:

* Diary of a Decision
* The First 72 hours in NYC

And I guess if I could leave you with two things it would be this: NYC is truly a city of who you know, not what you know. The people who do best here are people who can make connections and then leverage those connections to their advantage, whether that be in finding an apt. or asking for a job recommendation. Getting your foot in the door almost anywhere here is so much easier if you have someone greasing the wheels for you.

That said, this city is a “city of finalists.” Everyone is at the top of their game or climbing on someone else to get there. No matter what you do or how you live, there is always someone at your heels who wants it more than you, who will work harder than you and who does it better than you. If you do not relish competition, constant activity and stress, this will not be a city you call home for long ’cause it will wear you out then spit you out.

I am thankful every day that I made the choice to move here. I love this city so much more than I expected to, and had wanted to live here for 10 years before I was ready to move. But when you’re ready, there’s no better place on earth to be!

My cell is ________. I am usually hard to get a hold of on the phone but can respond to texts and emails more quickly. :-)

Good luck. Let me know when you’re landing so I can buy you a drink or a cupcake!
-Emily”

Photo Credit: Liz Henry (via Flickr)

To any men who have stupidly clicked on this link wanting to know what all that kinky “copper kisses” title was about, just do yourself a favor and leave. You will have mental images and learn things about the female anatomy you wish you could unlearn and unsee.

To any women who are truly considering getting an IUD, please know that every woman’s experience with this is highly individual. Just as different women react in varying ways to the Pill, your experience with this can and most likely will be very different from what you read here.

But I think you should know that it’s gonna hurt like a motherf*cker when they put it in. FYI.

With that out of the way, here’s my personal background, some fun facts about the device and then a short synopsis of the, uhhhh, insertion process and how it’s gone since then.

Background

I went on the Pill when I was a 17-year-old virgin, right before I started college. I was super religious throughout high school up until my senior year. When I decided to start making my own decisions about my life, I knew for damn sure my college years were going to include some sex.

My mom got knocked up with my brother when she was 16. My Uncle Tom, the only one of the five uncles who is married, got my lovely aunt pregnant before they got married. And my Uncle Dave, we just found out, has a gorgeous little Filipina daughter (no, he is not married to the mother). See a pattern here? My mom’s sister had my two cousins out of wedlock and two three of my female cousins have gotten pregnant before getting married.

I am NOT getting pregnant before I know I’m with someone I actually want to create a life with. So, throughout college I was so freaked out about not getting pregnant that I usually, I’d say 80% of the time, make my boyfriend use a condom even though I was on the Pill. Silly, scared girl I was. My first sexual relationship was awesome. I wanted to have sex all the time. Yay, sexsexsex. But a few bad experiences after that made it difficult for me and I started having a couple of inconvenient medical problems like UTIs at the slightest provocation.

By the time senior year rolled around, I was tired all the time and had little to no sex drive. Which was really sad, because my then-boyfriend thought I wasn’t attracted to him anymore. As much as men can separate sex and love, they need to feel attractive and sexually desirable as much (or maybe sometimes more) than women do. When you’re with someone you love, then that physical component is a super-important aspect of maintaining the relationship.

I didn’t really get what was wrong. I figured when things slowed down at my internship and I relaxed more, my sex drive would be a little stronger. It was weird though, because I thought about sex all the time. In my head, I was a little sex fiend. The mind-body connection just wasn’t happening.

Then adulthood, with all it’s face-smacking reality, hit. The not enough sex problem had a negative impact on another major relationship. This time, the person I was with suggested I look into alternative medicine for my sex drive issues. He also suggested I go off the Pill. But since he was f*cking INSANE, I though it’d be best to prevent myself from sourcing his demon spawn. I did take one of his suggestions and go to acupuncture. Surprisingly, the acupuncture helped, and I also stopped getting UTIs.

It was only after my acupuncturist suggested that I go off the Pill that I started to seriously consider it and look back to see how it may have been affecting my sex drive. Honestly, it was difficult to place any blame on the Pill, seeing as I was a super-religious virgin who hadn’t even really developed a sex drive before I went on it. Artificial hormones were a part of my entire sexual development. I had just always had a low sex drive with the exception of that first relationship, which was about eight months after I went on the Pill. I had a sex drive then, but never after.

I started to research other women’s experience both on and after going off the Pill and quickly got pissed. Over and over, I was reading stories of women who had previously had fully functioning sex drives, but who had experienced a diminishing or downright deadening of their level of desire when they went on the Pill. And many of them said it came back, noticeably so, within months of stopping the medication. Then I was like, “Why the f*ck am I medicating my body to stop it from doing what it’s supposed to?! Why would I want to trick my body into not ovulating every month? Of course I don’t want to f*ck. My body has no incentive to f*ck!”

Before I completely lose my mind on this point (just thinking about it makes me angry), I’ll go ahead and suggest that if you’re looking to go OFF the Pill, please do your own research. Talk to your GYN and your friends. Make the best decision for yourself. I got to a point where it was important for my body to start working and going through the processes it was naturally built to go through, including all the psychotic joy of ovulating. Wooohooo! I believe the hormones in the Pill, and the amount of time I spent using them (almost 10 years to the month) significantly contributed to a lower sex drive and lower overall energy level.

That was in 2005 right after my 27th birthday, at the end of a very painful relationship and also a few months before I decided to move to NYC. All those things combined meant that there was no way I was going to get into another committed relationship anytime soon.

Tick tock. A few months went by when my sex drive didn’t really matter because I was emotionally wrecked and wasn’t trying to have sex. Then, just like a cartoon bomb, my sex drive went off. It was all brightly-colored and lopsided and outside the realms of basic decency. I was, for the first time, experiencing what it was like to have my mind and body on the same page. When my mind was thinking about sex, and I was with someone I wanted to have sex with, my body cooperated. Out of sensitivity to anyone who might be reading this blog even though I warned them not to, I won’t go into too many details, but I will say that, ummm, everything cooperated very nicely.

But there was still the problem of birth control. Even though I used condoms, I f*cking hate them. I hate hate hate hate hate them and want them all to die in a fire. A big rubbery fire. I only met one condom I liked, and when I bought a pack of that kind for myself, one broke. Never again. So, birth control in 2006 consisted of mainly condoms but also a few trips to get the morning-after pill (the, “oh shit, better take a triple dose of the Pill” pill, not the abortion pill).

What does girl do when hormonal birth control is no longer an option, but she is still deathly afraid of getting knocked up? Well, she makes sure she gets tested. Seriously – if you are considering getting an IUD, you are required to be STD-free or at least have knowledge of whether or not you are carrying anything. The reason for this is that if you contract an STD after getting an IUD, the IUD can actually track the infection up into your uterus. This can sterilize or even kill you.

Having kids is so very important to me. Just because I am not ready to now does not make it any less important to me to safeguard my reproductive health (as well as the health of anyone I’d be involved with). So, get yourself tested. I was getting tested every year anyway as part of my annual exam, but do get tested right beforehand. Your doctor will probably make you.

This is also part of why most young women aren’t told a lot about the IUD as one of their contraceptive options. It really is best that you be in a monogamous relationship if you’re going to go that route, because you’re putting yourself in more danger if you have an IUD and you’re having unprotected sex with a bunch of people. The other reason that we don’t hear a lot about this option is because there’s also a chance that your doctor could permanently damage your uterus when placing the IUD. You might not even know until years later when you try to conceive. But I hear that this is super-rare and nearly unheard of if your doctor has routinely placed IUDs (and mine had decades of experience).

Let’s see. Two final considerations: there are two types/brands of IUDs offered in the United States. (Women in other countries, especially Asia where the IUD is the most prevalent form of birth control, have more choices in terms of which IUD to use.) The one I have goes by the brand name Paraguard. It’s commonly called the Copper-T, as it’s copper-wrapped and non-hormonal. The way it supposedly works is the copper kills both the eggs and the sperm. I say supposedly, because the IUD works in a number of ways and that is just part of the explanation. (I imagine it working more like this: When the egg and the sperm show up to the party in my cervix, they see this tall copper dude hulking up in the middle of my uterus. They whisper to each other, “Hey, when did this club get a bouncer?” Then Mr. IUD turns around, makes a menacing face, and then egg and sperm run away. Nobody gets killed. They just come back another time.)

The second kind goes by the brand name Mirena and is hormonal, though it emits a lower-dose than most birth control pills. I did not want even a little bit of hormonal interference, so I didn’t go that route, but I hear that many women don’t even get their period after getting this one. So that might be a bonus for you.

The other consideration is that, according to your doctor and some secondhand information, if you are sleeping with someone who is particularly well-endowed, he may run into a little problem. Literally. If your doctor does not trim the strings at the end of the IUD (which are used to pull the f*cker back out when it’s time to get a new one or when you decide to have kids), then it could be painful for the guy because the ends of the strings are quite pokey. The strings are like fishing line, but stiffer. So, yeah, they are a little jabby.

My doctor trimmed the strings very short, so they are barely detectable. The reason they need to be felt at all is to ensure, month after month, it’s still up there. Because, oh yeah, if you’ve never been pregnant, there’s a chance that your uterus could reject that f*cker and push it out anytime during the first year. What? Don’t look at it like that. If it’s not a baby, your uterus don’t want it up there. So, until it figures out what it is, expect a little back-talk.

The good news on that last point is that if the strings are short and you are very aroused, then you really should not have a problem. You know how the rush of blood to the penis works? Well, the rush of blood you experience does something similar to your cervix, hence the fun of the G-spot and hence things swelling up around that area to make your little reproductive friend all but hidden. Yay!

Have I scared you off yet? No? Well, you are either really committed to this thing or you are sick and a little bit voyeuristic. So, read on to hear the dirtier details of insertion.

Insertion of the IUD

Getting an IUD is actually considered a surgical procedure. It has to be inserted with a device by a doctor and you may want to bring someone with you so that you don’t have to drive right afterwards. The insertion itself takes less than 5 minutes, and most of that time is spent talking about what’s about to happen and why the doctor is holding what looks like the world’s longest pair of scissors up to your vagina.

So, what’s gonna happen is that hopefully you will have had an appointment and a discussion with your GYN to talk about your contraceptive options. You will have asked for the patient inserts (the one for Paraguard is available in PDF format here) so that you can compare the two types. I would recommend reading this info super carefully and asking the doc any questions before the day of, because by the time you put your feet in those stirrups, you should feel really good about your decision. You’re gonna have to, cause you’re not gonna feel so good about anything for a couple of days afterward.

The rundown is that this birth control method is estimated to be 99.4-99.9% effective if used perfectly, and the only ways to f*ck it up are if it’s not inserted correctly by your doctor or if your body ejects it. This means even if you vomit for days, have disgusting diarrhea or are on antibiotics, you can f*ck to your heart’s content and not get pregnant. (But I would think that if you have the ass-shits, you are probably not that into the idea of sex.) The copper IUD is good for 10 years. You hear me? 10 years. And fertility returns virtually as soon as you have it removed. Removal must also be done by a doctor – you can’t just yank it out.

The Paraguard IUD is in the shape of a capital “T” and about the size of your thumb, lengthwise. Maybe a little shorter. The top, according to the website, is an inch and a quarter, and the length is an inch and three-eights. So, it’s tiny. It’s inserted up through your cervix (up beyond where a tampon would stop) and into the space in the middle of your uterus.

The reason it hurts so much, especially for a woman who has not given birth, is because it has to go through the cervix. You know how it has to dilate for a baby to come out? Well, hormones during labor help you dilate, so without that going on for an IUD, the doctor has to dilate your cervix for you. Forcibly. And it f*cking hurts like hell. At least it did for me. The doctor will slide what I mentioned looks like a very long, dull pair of white plastic scissors up to your vagina.

She will open the pair of scissors while they are inside you to be able to see what she’s doing and to give her a little room to place the IUD. One arm of the scissors has a sterile tube on it that contains the IUD. After dilating your cervix, she will shove the tube up inside your cervix, releasing the IUD. It’s this part that feels like someone put a clamp on your cervix and snapped it shut. It’s a huge pinch and it hurts like hell. I’m not a baby by any means. In fact, I like a little pain. But it hurt so much I actually involuntarily yelled when she placed it.

And it’s not over immediately, because she has to use something to go into your poor, ouchy vagina and trim the strings. She’ll perhaps make some innocent comment like, “That is a LOT of blood” and you may internally freak the f*ck out or want to punch her cause you’re afraid she f*cked up and made off with your fertility forever. But now you’re just being silly. You might also want to ask her, right before she puts it in,”What if, when I have orgasms, I come really, really hard? Because I do. Will I push it back out? Will I lose it?” Or maybe that was just me. There was an assistant in the room with us and she sort of chuckled after because I laid down and said, “That SUCKED!”

Copper Kisses

Right afterwards, there will be a lot of bleeding. Somebody just sucker-punched your cervix and left a calling card in your uterus, so it has a right to be a little pissed. You will bleed and bleed and bleed and you will be scared because you don’t understand why you are bleeding. You will Google it when you get home and find out that this is normal, and that you might bleed for another three or four days. I still don’t understand exactly where that was coming from, but I’m guessing it was coming from the uterine walls. It will be enough blood to need a pad. I’m guessing you are not going to want to even look at a tampon for the next week.

You might feel a little dizzy and you will be sore. I had sex that night, so I can’t say being sore will be a deterrent to trying that bad boy out. I didn’t get pregnant so, YAY, it works! I didn’t have sex again for I think another week or so afterwards, so just be gentle on yourself. Your doctor might tell you to avoid sex for up to two weeks to give yourself time to heal and to avoid an infection while things are all vulnerable.

Here’s the last really, really important note: the IUD protects against PREGNANCY, NOT STDs. It’s a contraceptive, but it is not a barrier to all the other things that come from having a man inside you. If you’re with someone and you don’t know that they are absolutely clean, I would like to suggest that you still use condoms.

Okay, so getting into the finer points of having an IUD, here has been my experience: The first period you have after you get an IUD will see you losing a breathtaking amount of blood. My doctor warned me that the copper IUD can cause heavier and longer periods, but said that the first three months are not a good barometer because everyone bleeds a lot. I did some online research and came across the term “bleed like a stuck pig.” Yep, that sounds about right. Previous to having an IUD, I’ve never had any problems with my period. On or off the pill, they had always been regular, fairly light and cramp-free.

So far, and I am in the middle of my third period since getting the IUD, they have been heavier. When I say heavy, I mean going through a Super Plus every 1-4 hours for the first two or three days. I’ve only had cramps the first couple days of each period, and they are only really painful first thing in the morning. I had some lower back pain last month, but have had no other problems as of yet in that regard. My doctor advised taking some Advil every four-six hours during the painful parts and I’ve only had to do that a couple of times.

Outside of that part of my cycle, I have noticed zero difference between now and when I was not using any form of birth control. I’m not moody, I haven’t noticed any change in my sex drive and most importantly, I’m still not pregnant (Yay!).

So, what about sex? Well, I just stopped seeing the person I was dating last week unfortunately, but he was great and very understanding about the whole experience. He had dated someone in the past who had gotten an IUD so he was familiar with how it worked and what to expect. My concerns were that he would feel the IUD during sex or that, you know, I would have that explosive orgasm problem. He never mentioned feeling anything and there wasn’t anything that we had to avoid or adjust because of the IUD. I was relieved to discover that the explosive orgasms did not actually cause me to lose my little friend.

I had one other question shrieking through my head right before the doctor placed the IUD. Maybe if I were Nina, I could have asked that shit, but I kept it to myself. There was an assistant in the room and I think she was already amused enough with me as it was. It’s very personal, but I will of course share it with you anonymous thousands of people reading this because I love you and I want you to know all this so that you can get an IUD if you want one.

My very last concern was whether or not the IUD would change how I taste. I said it! I’m not taking it back either.

I mean, the thing’s wrapped in copper. Have you ever had a penny in your mouth or tasted blood? “Metallic” is not the sexiest, most pleasing taste. I was seriously concerned. I enjoy all sorts of oral activity, both giving and receiving. With boys and occasionally with girls, too. So, it was important to me that my birth control didn’t f*ck up any of the fun.

I’m happy to say that according to all empirical evidence, the IUD did not lead to any decrease in oral activity. There were no copper kisses. Just lots of good, pregnancy-free fun.

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Please feel free to leave questions or comments about your own IUD/bcp experiences in the comment section here. I feel really badly that there isn’t more good experiential info available on what to expect, so I would love it if people could voice their concerns or share a little about how it has been for them. Remember, I wrote this for two women who are considering getting an IUD as we speak, so I know that this info will help people.

Also feel free, if you’re a little shy or private, to send me a message. I will try to respond to any comments or messages in the next couple of days. Thanks!

[NOTE: This post was originally published in June 2008 on MySpace. My readers' comments stayed there, but please feel free to leave a comment here now that I've made it public on my website. I will answer as best I can about my personal experience, but do encourage you to talk to a doctor if you have questions about whether an IUD is the right bcp method for you.]

What I Didn’t Do (Yet. Or Maybe Ever.)
1. Go to Staten Island. This is only important because I’m Italian, and they gots Eye-talians there.
2. Go to art house cinema. This is only worth noting because I want to and because I live within walking distance of BAM. I need to go. Immediately.
3. Go to the Statue of Liberty (though Bunny and I did go look at it from Manhattan while she was in town)
4. Go to a concert of an artist I’ve always wanted to see
5. Meet Ruth Reichl, Jay-Z or Lil’ Kim
6. Move to Manhattan to be closer to my office, or get my own place in Bklyn
7. Go to enough museums (there’s still The Met, the Whitney and The Museum of Sex).
8. Join the Park Slope food coop. :-( This is something I want to do, but just can’t justify due to the distance and time commitment.
9. Take a dance class.
10. Write more.
11. Go to some famous New York places, like Biggie’s apartment, “233rd and White Plains” or Queensbridge.
12. Joined the New York City Public Library (my only resolution for 2008).
13. Go to Coney Island
14. Go visit the Latino food vendors (famous for their food’s authenticity) at the Brooklyn ballparks.
15 . . . I give up. I did more of what I wanted to do, and less of what I didn’t want to do. That was the point of moving to New York City. The “things I want to do” list will always be full, even as I cross off dozens of items on a weekly basis.

Goals For 2008
- Join the NYC Public Library (see above).
- Launch that damn food blog I’ve been “researching” for a year now. I’m not leaving this city until I get all those ideas out on the World Wide Web.
- Leave work at a reasonable hour or move closer to my office, so I can have more of a life.
- Love more. And be loved more (if and when possible).
- Seek out new authors, musicians and visual artists and start to explore theater.
- Buy some new furniture and invest more in my home, regardless of whether or not the street address itself is permanent. I am worth the investment and the feeling of security that stability brings.

And, while I’m here, I have to say congratulations to Nina and Donny on the new life they’re creating. Can’t wait to see you this weekend, Neens!