Friday, April 19Royal Holloway's offical student publication, est. 1986

GEDAREL, or, A Rant about the Pill

GEDAREL 20/150 microgram film-coated 

Ethnylestradiol / desogestrel 

GEDAREL knocks knocks knocks on her door, 5 o’clock on the dot. Not a second before nor after, GEDAREL must be let in daily or disaster strikes. She—no, no, GEDAREL is he, she wouldn’t inflict this, she wouldn’t force our hand, she wouldn’t think this was the solution. He pounds pounds pounds, “LET ME IN! LET ME IN OR I’LL RUIN YOUR LIFE.” She doesn’t behave like this, demand like this. This is all he, he wants no consequences—no consequences for him, consequences for her are printed double sided on A3, conveniently folded into nothing. She lets him in because it’s better than the alternative.

GEDAREL enters incognito, wig equipped and ready for action. Glass of wine in hand, GEDAREL introduces himself around the room, “Please, call me Oestrogen, call me Progestogen.” His real names—Ethnylestradiol and Desogestrel—look, smell, taste just like Oestrogen, Progestogen, but he is a lie. A synthetic version of her. She’s tricked easily enough, after all, what place does he have here…except for the obvious. He assures her he is here to help. Doesn’t she want her life as it is? She’s far too young, too naïve, definitely for sure not ready, so isn’t he a good thing? He knocks over a lamp, “Oops”, she gets a broom and he rips apart a pillow, feathers fly. He wasn’t supposed to do this, she could do this, she does this, monthly, he doesn’t need to, she just redecorated.  

Tomorrow, when he pounds again on her door, she’ll let GEDAREL in, after all, it’s better than the alternative. If only there was an alternative to this alternative.

Image credit: Danilo Alvesd via Unsplash