tubular
Oh Jessa: the degree of her badassness seems to just keep expanding weekly. It's not online (although my skills in tracking shit down are famously lacking so maybe somewhere it is) but if you get the May print edition of Jane magazine, you will find an amazing essay by ms. bookslut called, "Why won't my doctor let me get my tubes tied?" Page 150.
The scoop is that she asks doctor after doctor to tie her ridiculously fertile Midwestern tubes, but even the "cool" doctors say they have to "convince a panel of other doctors that you're right for the procedure, but all they're going to see is that you're 24. Come back when you're 35 and we'll see."
THEN!:
After trying various other forms of birth control with terrible results, I gave up and told my boyfriend I would just never have sex ever again. He received a new clarity. "I'll get a vasectomy," he declared.
I snorted, "Good luck. You're not much older than me. Whey would they sterilize you and not me?" Still, we gave it a shot.
At the clinic, the nurse looked at my boyfriend and said, "You're here for a vasectomy consultation?" We nodded. "You do realize this is a permanent procedure, that it is very difficult and expensive to reverse?" I took a deep breath. Here it comes: another round of rejection. "Well, okay then, how's next Friday?"
. . . all my boyfriend had to do was ask? It was hard to keep from ripping the nurse's hair out.