I’ll just go on ahead and tell you, Lena Dunham’s uterus was named Judy. Judy used to room in Lena’s womb. Hell, Judy WAS Lena’s womb. That is until Judy was evicted back in November for throwing all kinds of parties up in Lena’s insides and generally making a huge mess of things. It’s now been 9 months since the cop docs (that’s doctors dressed up like cops, or, cops dressed up like doctors. Picture your preference) had to drag Judy, kicking and screaming, out of the house. I’ll just go on ahead and tell you, Lena celebrated the anniversary of Judy’s demise (can you even call it an anniversary if you are counting in months?) by posing naked on Instagram. As one does. Oh, and she got a tattoo on her ribs that reads “RIP Judy”. As one does.
Here’s Lena’s nude. I swear to God I am more familiar with what Lena’s naked body looks like, than I am with my own. Collaterally, not even on purpose.
Today is National Leathercraft Day, National Relaxation Day and National Lemon Merengue Pie Day. It’s also the 9 month anniversary of my hysterectomy. I’ve never celebrated the 9 month anniversary of anything and I realized last night why that number feels so funny- I won’t ever do it the way I planned to. My body is mostly healed and every day I find a new bruise on my heart, but today I offer myself gratitude: from the most pained place, I somehow knew to choose myself. The purest glint of who we are and know we can be is always available to us, calm and true at our center. My friend Paul named my uterus Judy, and when she was being uppity we called her out, hence the tattoo on my ribs, which hurt like fuck even through the pain meds: #RIPJudy. Today I give thanks for Judy, for her graceful exit and for this body, which is stronger than I’ve ever given it credit for. Happy Giving Birth To Myself Day.
I’ll just go on ahead and tell you that I too had a hysterectomy, about a month ago. I’m really hoping a 9-month post surgery nude photo spread posted on social media with the comments turned on isn’t some kind of legally binding requirement. If it is, I didn’t get the memo. I didn’t name my uterus nor did I shed a tear at its loss, so maybe I’m off the hook. But Lena, she cared. Even though Judy was a terrible wombmate (sorry, absolutely not sorry) Lena is only 32 and had planned to have children. In fact, she was sharing a list of baby names she and her ex Jack Antonoff made several years prior. It’s clear the loss of Judy was significant to Lena. Sorry for your loss, Lena. Now stuff them titties away in a shirt, please!
I think more disturbing than Lena’s unchecked exhibitionism, is that somebody commented on these pictures “Yasssssssssssss qween!!!!”. That person thinks this phrase is new for 2018 and that a picture of Lena Dunham’s canvas of tattoo terrors is appropriate usage. Time for mainstream squares to take YQ out of their mouths, and throw it in the medical waste incinerator alongside Judy, and my uterus. Let’s call her, I dunno, Big Bertha.