A few months ago, I’d had plans. I’d bought a slew of new sex toys, and I was going to use them, blog about them, take pretty photos of them for my dead little Instagram. It was going to be exciting.
Then, as often happens when I get an idea and start making plans, my body said, Bitch, I don’t think so, and put its proverbial foot down. Often, the foot-putting-down is in the form of my fragile hormone balance going haywire or my even more fragile brain chemistry yeeting my happiness and productivity off a cliff like those two people in Midsommar.
In this case, it was one of my Bartholin’s glands pulling a Violet Beauregarde and swelling into a cyst.Continue reading “I Had a Bartholin’s Cyst and All I Got Was This Hole in My Junk”