I’ve always envied my friends with light periods and minimal period pain. I’ve lived my reproductive years with red tidal waves that stain just about everything I wear and sleep on. Despite upgrading to period underwear and nukes of tampon sizes, I can’t seem to escape. As a kid, I was the first to get my period out of everyone I knew. Although the average age to start menstruating is 12, I began at the ripe age of 10. I remember the embarrassment so clearly. Whether it be that time I bled onto my seat in math class or when my male family friend commented on the tampons in my bathroom – periods dictated so much of my early anxiety and shame.Â
To my surprise, it didn’t get better once everyone else had begun puberty. In comparison, I had heavier periods and more intense hormonal changes. They say comparison is the thief of joy – and I must agree. While my friends were focused on getting the next new Brandy Melville t-shirt, I was stressed about finding something that would actually fit over my boobs. Pool parties were hell, as I seemed to always be on my period. My damn uterus seemed to be so irregular, and I just attributed it to bad luck.   Â
It wasn’t until college that I was finally diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome, or PCOS. It might have taken a traumatizing gynecologist appointment, but my struggles were finally validated. PCOS is a chronic condition that finally explained my crazy periods and other hormonal issues. It’s often associated with weight gain, irregular periods, and insulin resistance. Unfortunately, it’s very under-researched, and there aren’t a lot of treatment options available. Regardless, it was relieving to discover an explanation for ⸺ what felt like ⸺ a lifetime of fighting with my own body.Â
Regardless, the journey to make peace with my reproductive system was far from over. It took me two years to figure out the proper diet, regimen, and medication to mitigate my symptoms. It was a difficult process, to say the least. It was a series of emotional ups and downs: thinking I found a solution, just to be slapped in the face with the reality that my PCOS wasn’t going away anytime soon. Today, I still face constant struggles with my utterly defiant uterus and worries about starting a family in the future. But I learned something invaluable about my condition: I’m not the only one. And I’m not the only woman facing health disparities in the U.S and globally. There’s an entire sisterhood ⸺ in fact, half the population ⸺ that could be experiencing the same issues as I do. That’s what got me through my diagnosis and helped me find my life passion.
Three years after being diagnosed with PCOS, I decided to add a public health major. I began researching what impacts I could make on the gender disparities in healthcare. I finally realized that my stupid f***ing vagina had given me something special: a passion to make change. If I hadn’t gone through the experiences I did, I wouldn’t have discovered what I wanted to do with my life. For that, I am grateful.
It might’ve taken an emotional whirlwind, borderline traumatic doctor appointments, and an unfortunate experience with puberty, but I have found purpose in my life. Being able to discover my career path and life passion at such an early age is a gift. So many people struggle to find what they want to do, and I’m fortunate enough to already know. Despite all the hardships it has put me through, I truly do love my stupid f***cking vagina.