At almost 30 years old now, I can finally (sort of) admit that my feelings of shame are ridiculous; I have nothing to be ashamed of, and ignorant people are ignorant.
I jokingly named my tumor Punxsutawney Phil. I told everyone that if the tumor saw its shadow during removal, I’d have six more weeks of recovery ahead. It made the surgery seem less daunting.
breast reduction
fat shaming
Growing up fat in a thin-obsessed culture led me to a case file at the hospital that is more than 2,000 pages long.
My #1 priority was a healthy baby, but escaping pain was a close second.
good dads
At 21 days old, Joanna Schroeder had severe hip problems requiring hospitalization. Her dad invented and built a device so she could stay home with her family.
From 2002 and on, I basically never stepped foot on a beach and, if I did, I was always fully clothed.
Hyperhidrosis made my hands and feet drip sweat all the time, so I went under the knife to make it stop.
Most days I laid in bed and suffered, convinced that either I had some kind of cancer eating me from the inside out that no doctor could find, or that they were right and there was nothing wrong with me and the pain was an invention of my twisted mind.
This post may or may not include opiates, a butthole, and a butter knife.
Or: I Went to the Drugstore High on Morphine and Ativan After Surgery and Bought a Bunch of Beauty Products
getting pregnant with michelle tea
Smoking is for single people. Now that I found Dashiell, I want to live forever.
getting pregnant with michelle tea
Maybe I can’t have nice things. A healthy uterus is a nice thing. So is a baby.
getting pregnant with michelle tea
“We should just get in there and look inside,” she says, agreeing with Dr. Waller. There for sure is something at the top of my uterine cavity, quite possibly a freaking fibroid.
At first I noticed little things -- my cup size B Victoria’s Secret bra looked a bit obscene, my button-down shirts kept popping open at the chest. Then my nipples stretched and expanded until they looked like enormous pink flying saucers.
It began with intense vulvar itching that kept me up at night and caused me to scratch until I bled. My long fingernails were frequently caked with blood and skin as I clawed into bar soap in attempts to clean them.
reproductive rights
As requested, I wrote this while under the influence of the good drugs from the hospital.
i'm so excited i could pee
Dude, you’re about to cram a tenaculum up my cooter while I’m unconscious and strapped to an operating table, I think I can handle you looking at my tits.
birth control
“F*ck ovaries,” I was prepared to say, “and their stupid little eggs too. Let’s do this thing! Sterilisation now, ovulation never!”
missing ovary
I know, logically, that it was the mass -- an accident, a twist of fate, a force of nature -- that took my ovary away. But in my heart, I can’t help but mourn, both for the children those eggs might have become, and for the space in my body where there was once an organ that now is empty.
cervical cancer
With this surgery, apparently you have lots of crazy gross things happen as you’re healing, like gross black chunks from the cauterization coming out, and I can’t use tampons or have sex until I am examined and cleared.
I was fortunate enough to have four nipples. Granted the third and fourth were a good three inches below my primaries, and they were small. But I didn’t like them.