Earlier this week, I drove over to my very awesome local sexual health clinic, willingly had my upper left arm anaesthetized, and got a matchstick-sized piece of plastic jammed under the skin just for the heck of it. Well, okay, not exactly...

Contraception.

In many ways, it's the bane of my existence. Kids are just not part of my plan right now, and as much as I wish it were possible, the technology to shut my ovaries off at will for any length of time has not yet been developed. (Anyone who figures out how to do that will have my eternal gratitude. I might even make them cupcakes, I would be so grateful.) So, seeing as how I'm with a partner of the opposite sex, some sort of pregnancy prevention is required.