I’m a take-charge kind of gal. I like to pull myself up by my bootstraps, and not hold my breath hoping the government will take care of me. That’s why I didn’t wait for the government to pass legislation allowing my employer to decide not to pay for my birth control. I cut to the chase and defunded my birth control myself. And to be honest, I’ve never felt more free. Granted, I had only been paying about $7 a month for it. But it adds up. And that’s money in my pocket I could be spending on other things, like candy corn.
I know that’s a controversial thing to say, but it’s my First Amendment right to say it and I will not be silenced. I fucking love candy corn.
Am I still having unprotected sex with near strangers while unemployed? You bet I am. Am I worried about it? Absolutely. Do I get to eat yummy yummy corn candy? You’re goddamn right I do!
Why candy corn, you ask? Because I can. Because I’m an American. America is about choice, and I’ve chosen candy corn. If you’ve got a problem with that, I dare you to come at me, because I’ve got a gun. And all six chambers are loaded with fresh, pointy kernels of candy corn.
Really; let me feed you some candy corn from my gun.
What did I ever get out of birth control, anyway? Nothing. Granted, I understand that’s sort of the point, but I get so much more out of a handful of those orange sugar bombs every few minutes. And so that’s where I’m going to spend my hard-earned dollars. Nobody can make me do anything else. Not even a SWAT team that comes to my house and breaks down my door with a log. I’ll be ready, squatting behind my recliner with my mouth dangerously full of half a pound of candy corn.
Do not mess with my firmly held belief that it’s better to eat candy corn instead of taking birth control. It’s my right, my freedom, and my problem alone.
Since my decision, I’ve eaten upwards of four bags of candy corn, and to be honest, I feel a little sick. I’ve even thrown up about 20 times. But then again, birth control had plenty of side effects, too. Especially if I missed a pill and had to take two the next day. But you know what’s great? If this candy corn thing doesn’t work out, I can always move on to something else, like circus peanuts. Almond Joys are pretty spectacular, too. Although they’re best in extreme moderation, kind of like how I prefer my government. Plus, they don’t fit in my gun.
Pretty soon, as I understand it, kids are going to come to my door in costume, holding out their grubby little hands begging me for my hard-earned candy corn. And maybe they’ll get some. Or maybe they’ll get a handful of my old leftover birth control pills.
Either way, it will be a lesson. And that lesson is freedom.