I got my Mirena last month. Compared the actual insertion (which was most vicious, acutely pinching cramp ever), the effort of requesting it was nil. I walked into the office, declared my intentions (after researching my options, of course), was told how to schedule the insertion (during period), and then got it done.…

Looking back, my wedding—while very pleasant for most attendees—most certainly was *not* good enough for llamas. My husband's goat ushers and my own porcine flower girls attested thus.

Is it bad that still LOVED the United States of Tara? (And if loving that show is wrong, I don't want to be right.)