Dear Neurontin,
I can’t stop eating. These words have often emerged from the mouths of my countless Jewish female relatives, but I really mean it.
This goddamn medication has taken over my body. Good that you might possibly be one of the several that is abating my headaches, or not.
Bad that I am at the same weight as when I birthed my last placenta.
Very irksome that I just bagged up all but a few remaining dregs of my wardrobe and sent them unceremoniously to the attic.
Quite unpleasant to be shoved rudely against the reality of my vanity.
Thanks, Neurontin. You rock.
