Forty is such a special time in a woman's life. Age spots blossom on your hands, your back aches for no reason, and if you're truly fortunate, you may begin to develop soft, jiggly jowls that small children can treat like Play-Doh. Yes, you're about to experience some wonderful developments! But don't be alarmed by the changes in your body as you mature from a young, vibrant woman to stale, middle-age goods. Some women may start this transition earlier than 40, and some may start later, so remember it's not a contest. It's all a natural part of growing old and being cast aside by society, a process every beautiful woman endures 30 or 40 years before finally dying. Perhaps the greatest rite of passage after turning 40 is going for your first annual mammogram. Also known as taking your sweater puppies to the vet, having your cans x-rayed every 12 months is an important screening exam to check for pesky cancer cells that can invade a woman's most private parts...

Once upon a time, on the zippered edge where two cities meet, there was a bra.  It was a bra of unremarkable color - darker than beige but lighter than mocha - whose cups stood proud if lonesome. It was a bra of indeterminate size - bigger than an A cup but smaller than Milwaukee. It was a bra with a story.  *Actual bra not pictured One May afternoon this bra suddenly found itself lounging in the westbound lane of Center Ridge Road, not far from a Taco Bell restaurant. Its hook-side pointed to one zip code; its eye-side, another. It was out of place in so many ways. But how did it get there?  Did it take flight from atop a load of laundry traveling in a cracked plastic hamper in the back seat of a 1998 Toyota Corolla, soaring through a rolled-down window to exciting lands unknown?  Had it been hastily stuffed into the cup holder of a late-model Mercedes during a moment of stolen passion, after which incriminating evidence had to be hastily discarded? Was it torn from...

Dear Secretary of State: This letter is to inform you of my decision to organize my uterus, fallopian tubes, cervix, vaginal canal, and associated reproductive tissues (henceforth "MY UTERUS, LLC") into a domestic Limited Liability Company.  This will be a single-member LLC, entered into by myself, being the sole owner and operator of the aforementioned reproductive system.  Much like small businesses are the backbone of the American economy, uteri are the literal blood and tissue that keep the country moving forward. While small businesses account for 43.5 percent of the gross domestic product, uteri account for 100 percent of the people.  The purpose of MY UTERUS is to provide a uniquely safe and nourishing environment in which to grow a fertilized egg throughout the stages of gestation - from zygote to embryo to fetus to viable baby. However, recent court cases have shown that, in my state, I no longer have full rights to control my unique bodily organ in the ways that...

The troubles that you waste nights worrying about are rarely the troubles that actually strike. This sticks in my memory from a Chicago Tribune column by Mary Schmich , offering advice to the class of 1997 -- one year before my own high school graduation. It became a spoken-word hit when Australian movie producer Baz Luhrmann inexplicably hired an actor to read it against some jaunty ambient music, and the single was released to radio in 1999. A bizarre pop-culture moment that landed in my quote book , it often pops into my head.  Specifically the line, "The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 p.m. on some idle Tuesday." It was probably closer to 10 a.m. for me, but the Tuesday part was correct. On a recent Tuesday this month, I was standing in a mammography room with my left breast painfully trapped between two plastic plates while an x-ray machine moved in an arc in front of my face. This was...

A few months ago, my then-4-year-old son was a bit under the weather -- froggy throat, crusty nose, occasional cough. So we spent the morning of an otherwise beautiful fall day watching cartoons. Usually I stick to the educational stuff, but he saw a commercial for something about genies who grant wishes while getting into mayhem, and he begged to watch more. Who can resist a flying carpet story and a nemesis with long purple hair? Sure, why not. During a break in the mystical action, we saw this commercial for something called Barbie New Born Pups. In the ad, Barbie kneels next to a blonde dog of unrecognizable pedigree-- a golden retriever maybe? -- and gives it a loving scratch. The next thing you know, human hands push down on the dog's back, the dog crouches down a bit, and from out of the dog's middle region falls a puppy. There's no warning, no signs of labor, no backstory about a lovable mutt neighbor-dog who jumped over the fence a few months ago. Just BAM....

Free to a good home - 3 postpartum maxi pads Designed to absorb Lake Erie For the discerning woman who recently pushed something the size of a watermelon out of something the size of a walnut. Pink-wrapped, NWOT pads are genuine hospital-issue and approximately the thickness of a queen pillow-top mattress. The high-end luxury hotel kind, not the bargain-basement mattresses found in Motel 6. Designed to absorb Lake Erie every eight hours without any pesky leaks or troublesome Asian carp. Generously sized, these formidable pads will easily span any woman's mangled undercarriage, from her gelatinous post-baby bellybutton to the top of her tremendously sore ass crack. Works nicely with ice packs. Suggested use: from first days home from hospital until you can sit down without wincing (approximately 7-14 days). Also would work as a comfortable resting place for any medium-sized dog, such as golden retriever or basset hound. As a bonus, you can compare your once-perky boobs to the ...

Allow me to introduce you to The Cousins, The Girls, my boobs: Mad Dog and Priscilla. Named by my husband years ago, Mad Dog is a rebel who has a tendency to try to slip the confines of her fabric prison, while Priscilla is a bit of a princess. These wondrous globes were gifted to me by the good Lord above so I could feed a baby or two.    The Girls were super excited last week to be recognized (if anonymously) because it was World Breastfeeding Week as well as the opening of National Breastfeeding Awareness Month. This meant my social media feed was awash in posts about taking "time to kindly educate people" about how breastfeeding is "a fulfilling and magnificent accomplishment" that is "easier with support." Except when it's not. The plain truth that most doctors and support organizations don't come out and say is that sometimes, some women can't breastfeed. Or that not all babies can or want to or will. Had I known this, perhaps I wo...

You know those Lifetime Channel movies where the plucky protagonist faces a series of improbable circumstances, yet somehow prevails and manages to live (mostly) Happily Ever After? That happened to me a few months ago. In fact, I'm pretty sure the Lifetime Network is right now drawing up a contract for the rights to the story of my Jamaican vacation. Here is your exclusive sneak peek into that made-for-television event. (Please note: the following dramatic re-telling contains graphic references to Bob Marley, driving on the wrong side of the road, blood, hospitals, Pampers, believing in yourself, fully automatic machine guns, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, and a possible sprained ankle. It's also pretty long. Reader discretion is strongly advised.) SCENE: DOCTOR'S OFFICE    Our movie opens on an attractive couple played by Kate Mara (that's me) and Hugh Jackman in a skullcap (that's the hubs) sitting in a doctor's exam room. A brunette nurse says,...

My uterus has a polyp. It's not getting any bigger, but it's not going away either. It's just hanging out there, doing polyp stuff. Maybe reading a book and eating an apple. Or maybe jamming to the new U2 album. (As an aside, I really hope my uterus doesn't listen to U2. I don't have anything against the band per se, but I would prefer my internal organs' musical tastes lean more toward singer/songwriter than pop idol-turned-philanthropist-turned-corporate sell out.) If your uterus needs a hug like mine does, this pillow is available on Etsy. For real. The good news is the polyp probably isn't harmful to my health in any way. It isn't cancerous or anything scary like that. The bad news is it may temporarily derail our plans to have Baby #2 . We had a tremendous struggle getting pregnant the first time -- one diagnosis of testicular cancer followed by an orchiectomy (google it, I dare you), one diagnosis of low egg count (which meant my ovaries ...

I have a great husband who knows my limits, and one of those limits is how much time I can spend around other people – including my precious child – before I start to slowly go mad. An introvert at heart, I require a decent amount of down time alone each day so I can recover from the hours I spend being pulled at, whined to, and drooled on. My need for breaks is naturally at odds with my husband’s need to, you know, go to work and earn money so he can support our family. He works an odd schedule, so I am fortunate that he has more time than most husbands to entertain and bond with the kiddo, which allows me some time off. Unfortunately, he travels sometimes – leaving me alone with a toddler for days at a time. Like I said, he knows my limits, and he almost always arranges with his parents for the kiddo to spend the night at least once while my husband is gone. This way he doesn’t come home to an irritable wife who’s likely to sigh loudly and slam doors and yell at the dogs. Or...