This is the final instalment of Kill Pill. To follow Madeleine’s personal journey, check out the archives. There’s something unsettling about this column ending on the number 17. My first thought was ‘they need to end on an even number’, then my second thought was, ‘well, nothing ends on an even number’. So here we…
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Pill must be getting killed because I feel way out of my depth. There’s something rejuvenating about finding yourself in unchartered territory, though. It means you’re alive and you don’t know everything. It’s a relief. I had a dream about two little boys that my boyfriend and I had to care for. They weren’t…
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Content warning: this article contains discussion of sexual assault and rape culture. There is a man following me. In order to make sense of this, I’ve decided to ornately frame it in the context of killing pill. Because it seems a lot of power comes with having a female form. And reopening the part…
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Kill Pill resumes after a one week hiatus as a fortnightly column. Be sure to check back regularly for instalments. I didn’t write about this when it happened because I didn’t want my parents to find out about it. I’m 27 going on 17. A very wise woman friend suggested that my body may be reverting…
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Eat, sleep, bleed, repeat. The last week has been an anomaly. It’s no wonder that menstruation can also be called a period, because the definition I found online under “physics” said a period was: The interval of time between successive occurrences of the same state in an oscillatory or cyclic phenomenon, such as a mechanical…
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Killing pill is like a spinning wheel and this little guinea-piggy finally landed on red. I got my first period after three months and only a withdrawal bleed to my name. The plot bloodies and thickens, as most timeless tales are wont to do. Given the focus of last week’s column, this is –…
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Coming off the pill and the unexpected death of my pussycat has left me wondering what it means to truly love one’s pussy. Throughout my life, caring for my vagina has been about altering its appearance, or concealing its machinations somehow. I’ve been like a Sim waiting for directions. Stories about hair, or lack of…
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This is a tribute to my favourite pussy. A pussy I treated far better than my own. A pussy that taught my partner and I so much and, through his unexpected death this week, has weaved a delicate symmetry between his proud little life and my own mysterious pussy. This pussy was a bit…
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This week’s column is dedicated to things that have been helpful during the first two months off the pill. No need to go chasing the end of the rainbow – a pot of gold can be found right here. 1. Sweetening the Pill: How We Got Hooked on Hormonal Birth Control by Holly Grigg-Spall You’ll…
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I have reached a new level in this game of Killing Pill. Before me are the gatekeepers who guard the unopened door; the unread chapter; the entrance to another realm of understanding and embodiment. They are moonlit, glowing women, who go by the name of The Fifth Vital Sign (or Kelsey Knight and Emily Varnam)….
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The veil has been lifted this week in No-Pill Land and I’m seeing the world much more clearly. It’s still my subjective experience of this realm we live in called Earth, but I feel awake, engaged and ready for action in it. Hello, good morning, rise and shine, time to get up because…
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Hey, Where the Bloody Hell Are You? Can you see me? I’m waving across a deserted beach but there’s no one here and it looks like there’s no one coming? The sun is shining – surely you’re on your way? I’m trying to smile! I thought you saved me a spot, but you’re not here,…
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My worst fear has come true. I’m free. Coming off the pill has cut this puppet’s strings. But instead of running around gaily, skipping and twirling, I’m lying on the ground, writhing in frustration, trying to figure out how to get up and walk. I’m faced with how uncoordinated I am, and how much I’ve…
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My sweat patches smell sweeter. My hair is greasier. My orgasms feel deeper. Words are bubbling out. I can’t stop eating tofu. Dogs seem to be barking at me more aggressively. I prefer the scent of the Bulgarian Rose candle to the Almond Milk one, which is very strange. Very strange indeed. My skin is…
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