Reddit
From 2019 through summer of last year I had been taking TRT. I liked certain aspects of it (energy, motivation, etc.) but it came at a price. The price was a hyperactive sex drive and intense urges and preoccupations that had me seeking out potentially dangerous encounters. Luckily virtually all of them fell through. After stopping TRT in the summer of 2023.
In the fall I decided it was time to transition with HRT, so I booked an appointment and got prescriptions for Estrogen and Spiro and started them in October. Within a couple of weeks I was LOVING how I felt. Those (frankly troubling) impulses and urges were gone. Sorry to be crude but my dick was no longer in charge, and that was a very welcome thing. My libido crashed and it was virtually impossible to become erect (and these were/are welcome things to me). It felt a bit like I imagined chemical castration would feel - and it was frankly liberating for me.
Additionally, I felt changes in my moods (more stable, less angry, overall happier), My empathy skyrocketed, I noticed my skin softening, my body hair growth slowed significantly, armpit odor changed (went away IMO) … all of the standard things they tell you. And I loved it all. Then too my delight, in late December I started to feel the tingle in my breasts/nipples that signaled the beginning of growth. My chest circumference (around the breasts) grew 2.5 inches in the first 4-5 months alone. They were painful at times, but I also noticed they were more sensitive to stimulation. Again - loved it all. (except for now I’m pretty self-conscious about having my shirt off, for any reason - but I don’t even mind that I guess).
Some other things I noticed: My sense of smell changed, I would have these phantom smells that were unpleasant at times (came and went - no, not COVID related either). I was also cold all the time (didn’t mind this, just wore warmer clothes). I’m not sure if my body fat was redistributing at that time, I think it might have been but it was subtle.
Then, in March I was feeling that my clothes were feeling a bit tighter (in the wrong spots as well as the right ones), and I hopped on the scale. I almost puked - I had gained 25 lbs since starting HRT. And I was CONSTANTLY exhausted. This is when I decided I had to pump the brakes.
From childhood I always struggled with weight and body image. When I was on TRT, I actually lost over 60 lbs over the course of a few years, and I still didn’t feel like it was enough. I knew that there was a risk of weight gain with M2F HRT, and 5-10 lbs would have been fine with me. But 25 lbs over the course of 5.5 months was a deal breaker, and this brings me to my point/questions…
I backed off the Estrogen and now the benefits I enjoyed are waning. My libido and urges are creeping back and the morning erections have returned (I actually dusted off my old chastity device, and locked myself back up, that’s another long story). My hair is starting to grow quicker, just this morning I noticed a ‘male’ armpit smell again and my moods are up and down again. Ugh!
In your experience/s is there a way to balance all of this out? I really miss/want the benefits of the Estrogen without the weight gain and exhaustion that I experienced.
I have been taking some supplements that seem to help with T levels (or at least side effects), Red Reishi Mushroom is a 5-alpha reductase inhibitor - that seems to be kind of effective for me (not perfect but it has helped), and I also take a high quality white peony supplement that purportedly promotes aromatization of T into E. These things have helped a little and weight gain has stopped - but I really miss the positive benefits of Estrogen injections but gaining more weight is simply a deal breaker. I just can’t.
Any advice? Have any of you had similar responses? How did you cope with (or avoid) the weight gain?

As If It Were Kismet: Prologue
Matt tore through the brush, blind in the dark. He didn’t care where he was going. He only knew he needed to be elsewhere. Far from here.
Behind him a creature howled that shocked his mind. It’s form was cruel and dangerous, though female. Nothing like the young woman she had once been. Nothing but a girl, a small and slight female.
It’s guttural growls and howls only grew closer as Matt tried to pick between seeing where he was going and getting away. The few times he looked he caught sight of the creature behind him. Hopping through the air with a speed that told him he was being toyed with. As if he were a mouse being played with by a cat.
But the reflex in him to run kept him going. His adrenaline going as hard as it could. The tightness and burning in his core tensing and locking up as his legs felt like there were being burned from within while taking on more of a heaviness.
His lungs were starting to betray him as he tried to gulp big breaths of air but only rapid and shallow breaths were all that he could manage. His brain was starting to burn….and then he was falling.
Falling down the side of a hill he saw the creature dart in a spring towards him, imperceivably fast almost. Catching him in mid air it seemed.
Managing to wrap its body around him and cushion his impact against the ground as they rolled. His mind barely took in what was happening during the roll. Only starting to understand what was happening once they were still.
The creature's triple D-cup breasts were unmistakably pressed hard against his back as he laid facing up at the night sky.
For a few seconds the world stilled and the needle light pain hitting the center of his brain took over for the cooking heat his brain had felt. His whole body felt heavy and reluctant to move.
Even if he could have really moved, a dull ache came over his limbs making them feel stilled and trapped as if by immeasurable amounts of sand that had engulfed him.
Slowly the arms holding him started to move. Moving so the creature's hands could start exploring him. Causing Matt to unstoppably let out a pathetic moan that made him go cold inside as hands lifted up his shirt and started to touch his exposed stomach and then his chest.
He would have whimpered so pathetically had he not still been in the depths of terror.
As its hands felt and groped his pecs he tried to situp as if to get away. For his efforts, his reward was a hand around his throat and a collection snarls and growls against his ear. A beastly, guttural voice spat words at him while somehow holding a feminine tone.
“Don’t move….I don’t know if I can calm down…”
Her words were not helped by her moans in his ear and the subsequent kissing of his ear. The flesh of his ear going between her lips as she moaned and seemed to pant. Releasing it and licking the side of his face with a moist warmth. He could feel its spittle, viscous and coating his flesh where the tongue touched. He could smell something in his saliva. Something that subtly entranced him.
Matt went stock still with fear and the confusion of mixed arousal. He barely perceived her right hand traveling lower on his body. A surprised moan and shudder echoed in the night from Matt’s lips as she took ahold of him. Her hand above his pants but still….stimulating him.
A light squeezing and almost probing of her digits kept him aroused and confused within her grasp. Resigning himself to the strange fate, Matt looked up at the stars as his mind tried not to shatter under the strange maelstrom of events and sensation that had started mere minutes ago.
His mind was only more confused as a slight figure, feminine in build, how it seemed to thunk the ground audibly as she landed on her feet out nowhere. Her knees barely bending under the pressure of the landing. Yet dirt was kicked up anyways and some of it onto Matt. Feeling it pepper his shirt and pants as it fell.
The figure, lit only faintly by moonlight, roared some dark tone Matt could only perceive as a demon as her eyes went bright with a crimson light. A light in the darkness that should not have been. “Let him go you bitch.” Was its words following the roar. Spittle escaping its mouth with faint droplets hit Matt's face.
The creature holding him by his throat and crotch seemed to tighten the grasp of both hands as it roared back. “HE IS MINE!”
The figure paused with a moment's hesitation. He was also her quarry. She had felt his fear without him knowing. His confused arousal. His fear. His terror.
And now he laid at the center of a struggle between two monsters. Unsure of who he wanted to win.
As If It Was Kismet Ch. 1
Matthew Berkshire hadn’t seen his mom in two years. Not that he had seen her much over the last six years.
A messy divorce between messy people and mom’s chaotic want for a life in Alaska had been one of the most…upsetting times in life. Setting him up for so much of what had defined his life thus far but then that had really started two years before he ever turned.
His ear buds were basic and simple. A part of cheap five pack, common for his life as he was known to lose little things. Small things. They had a mix of metal and hard rock playing in them. Some classics, some alternative. Whatever made him feel something, anything. Even if it was hate. Anger. Rage. It was better than feeling numb. Not belonging.
The escalator down to his lone bag to go with his lone carry on showed his mom waiting for him. His had a type, that’s for damn sure. Not that it helped him in the genetics department as he was stuck at 5’9” to go along with his mother’s five foot even as his dad stood six foot. Forever leaving him to feel small, to pale, under his dad’s shadow. Did he ever stand a chance?
The guy next to her with the unkempt former seventies porn stache was “Dave.” He’d met him twice when his mother came and visited him in Florida. To his credit the guy didn’t look annoyed. Kind of concerned kind of which made Matthew want to break his frozen look but he was well practiced. Having removed any note of sadness from his face through much…tribulation.
His mother’s look on her face betrayed a hint of worry as the bruises on his face lightly showed up close. Saying his name was his like a distant echo that belonged to someone else.
Dave cut in and pulled out his right headphone. “What the hell bud, they knock you hard enough to hurt hearing? Your mom’s asking how you are doing.”
Matthew pulled out the other bud and grunted an empty “sorry.”
“You still have bruises after two week? What did they do to you?” His mom’s voice was full of worry. Something he hadn’t heard in….too long. Too long to make him feel anything. To ever make him believe there was any sincerity to her words. To not think her voice and mannerisms were an act. An act by someone who…wasn’t really there.
“It’s only fair. I took a nose. Fractured a couple orbital bones. Left one with having to get his jaw wired shut. And one will never walk right again for what I did to his knee cap.” Matthew said it all with a bored and disinterested tone. Perhaps well rehearsed.
“My man, handing out ass kickings, not bothering to take names.” Dave was quick to be the typical man’s man about it. Matthew wasn’t quite done yet. Lifting up his shirt to expose the right side near his kidney. Revealing a nasty scar from a six inch blade. “Luckily they gave me this first so they could rule it all in self-defense. The fuck didn’t get it in more than inch before I ruined his knee cap and then I took the nose of one of the fucks holding me.” Now he chose to smile keeping the well practiced dead look in his eyes.
No retorts. No questions. Just horrified looks on their faces. As he liked. As he preferred. They could hate him. They could be disgusted by him. But by God they would fear him.
“Well the doc did a good job sewing you up.” Dave commented uncomfortably. “Dissolving sutures. Ain’t they grand.” He smiled again and let it abruptly fall off his face and started walking to the carousel for the baggage claim.
Waiting and making small talk with Dave as his mother stood in silence. He was not the little boy she abandoned. The little boy she left with an angry man. While never hitting him. Left him in constant fear till he turned twelve and just didn’t care anymore. Something snapped. Broke. And he didn’t care if he died. Didn’t care if he stole. Didn’t even care if he killed. He just knew not to get caught. Something left over from his grandfather’s wisdom which came to make more and more sense with each passing year of life since that thing inside him broke.
Finally his bag came around and Dave went to try first to grab it but Dave practically leapt ahead of him. “Is that your grandfather’s rucksack bag?” his mother asked in a perplexed voice.
“Figured it’s been around since Viet Nam. So it’d serve me better than any of the worthless stuff they called luggage.” Dave commented after Matthew’s words. “Well hell yeah I still got mine from Desert Storm. You know the first one.” Dave laughed and Matthew eyed him oddly. Be it in the south or whether it was Alaska, country boys are country boys he guessed.
The car ride to the two people’s house, as Matthew thought of them. Was uneventful and full of vistas he imagined metropolitan types wetting themselves over. At most they meant isolation to him. Furtherness from the world as there were no mountains in Florida. And what mountains he had last seen in another state had been when he was eight. Another life, to Matthew it felt like. A life alien to him.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 2
Dave and his mom’s place was some two story type tucked into a tree line far up an elevated point. It was by no means the highest point in the mountain but it certainly felt up there.
Rocks were where the driveway should have been Matthew thought. Grabbing his backpack and rucksack from Dave’s jeep was no hard thing for him. Matthew was in formidable shape for someone his age, maybe even five years older. He had gotten a mix of fairly big shoulders and arms along with the chest to go for it when compared to most kids his age. A side effect of working out at least twice a day. First thing in the morning, some time in the evening, and the school’s gym when had had a good semester in school before he had to leave Florida.
Dave tried to come up and help him but Matthew walked past him towards the house. His mom was not sure what to make of his demeanor. Matthew was not the sweet kind boy he had once been. But she had been gone from his life essentially for a long time.
Ushering him into the house she cracked some joke he did not hear. He was too busy looking about and seeing a mix of old outdated decorating mixed with the strange and odd flair of his mother. Color contrasting against drab and dated. Like brightly painting over an old home that was falling apart he thought.
“Your room is this way Mattie.” His mom brightly intoned.
Without expressing any interest he followed his mother. Still faced and nonplussed. Just going along with the current. Pushed and pulled with its roll like a piece of driftwood.
The room was simple. A single small bed. A set of rubber weights with a curl bar and barbells. “Your dad said you were into weight lifting so we got you a bunch of stuff. Dave says it looks like his department’s gym almost. The woman’s smile felt very alien to him.
“Thank you. I appreciate it. I’ve got most of my stuff from home.” Matthew starting unpacking his rucksack and pulled out cables of repetitive and mixed colors. A single plastic barbell handle. The ruck sack could be filled with water bottles for added weight during pushups he figured. Remembering a Michael Keaton movie he watched with his dad post-Batman movies where he played a convicted killer using plastic bags filled with water for weights.
Matthew caught movement outside his lone fairly large window that could let him step out onto the roof of the house given its layout.
He saw a number of people running together through what he guessed was the backyard of the property, not that it had any fences to mark boundaries
They wore clothes that looked similar yet different from each other at the same time.”Oh those are the Johnston’s. Really nice bunch of people. Been on the mountain for a long time Dave tells me.”
Matthew looked at the group of people running and noticed the lack of resemblance. “They are related?” Matthew quizzically asked. Seeing a black and possibly a hispanic person amongst the bland looking white people.
“Oh well they are all adopted but for one or two of them…besides the parents of course. The family has a long tradition of taking in orphans they say. Real nice of them to do that don’t you think.”
Matthew looked at his mother and the hosier accent made no sense to him as he arched his left eye brow. Her and his dad were both from Florida. Born and raised. Sure her parents were from New York city but…
Matthew shook his lightly without turning to look at his mother as his vision was grabbed by one of the runners in particular. A girl of moderate height. Soft brunette. A plain beauty he figured with a slim build….and lack of remarkable breasts and rear to make any note of but….girls in general were his type at his age.
She was pretty enough. He couldn’t deny that but he found himself transfixed by her visage.
But the way she turned and looked at him, especially at that distance felt very disconcerting to him. Even if she was smiling like…she was a taste of a bright shiny day. Somehow.
Matthew’s mom noticed the exchange and smiled to herself with closed lips. “Oh that’s Vicky. She’s your age I think. Very sweet girl, who does the charity functions. You know bake sales, blood drives, car washes and the like. I think you should get to know her. Might be good for you.”
A truck horn sounded a couple of beeps in rather succession. “Oh that must be Mack, he said he might come by later this evening but he seems early.”
Matthew’s mother turned and left his room. Leaving Matthew to exchange a few looks with the alluring Vicky as she turned her head away from him to talk to the others in her group and look back at him.
Still Matthew’s left eyebrow was arched. In a way that reminded him of Spock from Star Trek that he and his grandpa used to watch on some streaming service or another.
As he heard ambient chatter elsewhere outside the house he figured to check it out as the alluring sight of Vicky would be around he figured. It was dull to stare at artwork. He was a boy who preferred jet skis and the like. Something he could ride and enjoy immensely. Even if at times it got him stabbed.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 3
Matthew sauntered out of the house and down the rockway that stood in for a driveway.
A few new people had come over from what he could first surmise of the situation. As he got closer it was obvious they were indigenous people. A couple of grown men…and a girl?
She was mousey. Maybe five foot. Hiding behind glasses and a big camo jacket that was far too big for her. It looked made for a grown man and the backwards trucker hat on her head kept her long black a beautiful mess of sorts.
She was cute in a way. A little androgynous but she had a cute energy to her. She reminded him of the more tomboyish Puerto Rican girls he had gotten into back in Florida. Given the deer corpses in the back of the truck….probably more dangerous to play with given the men in her family.
Small chatter passed between the adults when the girl noticed but turned away, trying to hide the tiny hint of a smile.
“Oh Mattie, this is Mack. He works with Dave at the sheriff’s department and John, he’s with fish and wildlife.” Matthew nodded at his mom’s words with some blankness as he looked at the deer the in the back of the pickup truck.
“Gale tells us you hunted with your dad some in Florida and Georgia.” Mack offered with a light hearted laugh camouflaged by his big simple and cheery but husky way he spoke.
Looking in the back of the truck he spoke. “We used lever action thirty-thirties and Mosin Nagants in seven-six-two-fifty-four-rimmed.” Mack and John whistled in an exaggerated fashion. Leaving Matthew to wonder if they were mocking him.
Mack spoke. “Well we just used thirty-odd-six in a custom gussied Garand.” That caught Matthew’s attention. “You have a Garand…” Matthew finally demonstrated interest in anything. “My dad has an SVT-40 and a Hakim 8mm but he always wanted a Garand but was too cheap to buy one.”
Gale, his mother, chimed in loudly. “Oh his Dad loved his guns but was such an odd duck about how he bought or why he bought them. Never made sense to me how he wasn’t a collector but he didn’t get the latest and greatest.” Gale laughed uncomfortably. At least it seemed that way to Matthew.
Matthew pointed to the girl with an underhanded pointing hand. “And who is this? A cute little mute mouse or does she have a name?” Dave and the other men laughed.
Mack again spoke. “Well you people call her Rebecca, she’s my adopted daughter.” Matthew was taken aback by what he heard. “You people?”
Rebecca kindly spoke with a soft but almost melodic voice as she struggled to maintain eye contact. “White people or rather not members of our tribe. It’s just easier to appease the colonizer kind of thing. Borrowed from when the Jesuit missionaries chased us up here.”
Mack stepped in. “It’s just easier to have white people names than have them try to say our tribal names. And we don’t want them shortening or Anglicising our names kind of thing.” Rebecca stepped back into the conversation cutting off her adopted father. “It’s an insult to our history basically.”
Matthew cocked his head sideways raising his eyebrows shortly before letting them drop. “Well as soon as I’m eighteen I’m out of here and back to Florida so I’m a sort of involuntary colonizer of sorts. So I won’t be taking any of your land from you. The Seminoles on the other hand are still shit out of luck.”
Rebecca’s smile caused Matthew to reflexively smile. Mack made the moment more awkward. “See Becca, I told you someone off the reservation would like you some. You just have to be creative.” Mack laughed in a chiding manner…Matthew presumed. He sensed that he was the butt of some kind of cultural joke. Like marrying a white guy was some sort of insult or mark of shame. That kind of thing.
Rebecca turning away from him was not something he had been expecting. Her then getting in the truck in a huff left the group in a silence for a moment.
Dave spoke to break the awkward silence. “Well just bring the truck to work on Monday and leave it for me to grab up.” Mack acknowledged Dave and they started to get off as Rebecca looked at Matthew for another instance. Matthew couldn’t look away for some reason as the two seemed to lock eyes for an instance.
Till Vicky and family seemed to come jogging down the road. While Matthew’s eyes diverted from Rebecca’s. Hers did not till she realized he was looking elsewhere. And her vision found Vicky and what had been a hint of smile on her face turned glum and disappointed.
Matthew did not look away from the vision of Vicky but instead of a starry eyed fool looking longingly. It was a baffled look. Well baffled for him, with his eyes drawn narrow and night with a focus.
There was something about her…he couldn’t quite put a name too. The way she appeared to him. One second brunette. The next second blonde or blonde like. As if the color appeared in her air and disappeared in fractions of seconds. Much the same way her body almost seemed to…shift…very subtly…smoothly. A nicer bum. Larger breasts. And then back to a simple and plain form. Feminine no doubt. Attractive. But not so…remarkable.
As If It Was Kismet Ch 4
The next two days passed without incident. Nothing of any real substance or challenge to note.
Matthew got settled somewhat and started working out almost immediately. Exploring around the woods but Dave told him not to go far. Especially without a hunting rifle. Dave had left a simple semi-auto Winchester out for him. His bear gun as Dave referred to it with its four round magazine. But Matt figured till he got some practice with the rifle to leave it alone. He made a hiking stick like his grandpa taught him and treated it over a low fire. He would take some electrical tape for the end his hand would grip around. Plenty enough to ward off anything smaller than a bear he figured.
The ride to school was a pain in the neck but simple enough. Dave would let him use a clunker pickup truck he had laying around. It wasn’t pretty but it would get him to and from. Even if it was from the eighties and still backfired on occasion. But for now Dave and his mom took him on their way to the sheriff’s department.
It wasn’t much of a school. It wanted to be modern but its fifties original construction was very obvious. It serviced the pipeline families and familys’ of fisherman who worked the seasons in between their time at the pipeline.
Matt was to report to the principal for some reason Dave and his mom wouldn’t share. Which annoyed him but he figured it was to read him the law of land. Small towns with their big views of the outside world and like.
Dressed in jeans, a grey sweatshirt under a light jacket with steel toed boots set him more apart then he expected. His buzzed head didn’t help matters. Already he was feeling like a stranger in a strange land but he was quite strange after all. And he liked it that way. Normal people were so pathetically disappointing to him.
A secretary or assistant or some such led him to the principal’s office. Where it reeked of real wood that was old and fabric and upholstery that needed to be updated for the last twenty years, Matt figured.
“This is Matthew Berkshire, Principal Andrews.” The man was turned with his back to the door and he was quick to wave her off as he turned her around.
He was an older man. Fat and large. Tall with a body built like he had once been fit and a demeanour of annoyed and irate already as he fixed Matt with a scowl and look of disgust. Another worthless government whore. Matt thought to himself. His father and his grandfather had bestowed unto him a natural disrespect for government workers and the figures that wore unjustified authority as a shield but pretended the weight of the state was not at their back ready to crush all who resisted. Little figures of valor pretending to be mighty and alone but acting with the tyranny of the state and all the backing.
“Mr. Berkshire, please sit down.” His tone wasn’t unusually hostile, just gruff. As if he had better things to do.
Matt complied and took a seat in the chair while maintaining a friendly facade. Not everyone was an enemy. And not everyone needed to be an enemy. Even if anybody could be any enemy. There was no reason to make enemies you didn’t have to. Another of his grandfather’s bastardised wisdoms.
“Well I looked over you file and you have quite the history Mr. Berkshire.” Matt resisted qiuping back a joke. Instead he waited for Principal Andrews to continue as he remained nonplussed and looking as if he felt no need to respond. A simple head tilt with dead eyes looking back at the principle as if he was not even there would suffice.
Matt’s reaction or lack of a reaction rather made Principal Andrews only narrow his eyes with examination. He was not used to a kid not responding to him. Especially with his gruff and hard act going on.
“Well by all accounts you moved here after some problems at your last school. A fight broke out and you did some real harm to your fellow students it appears.” Of course, he would take the side of the perpetrators. School administrators always did. Especially when they weren’t white. Just a fact of the times. Cowardice and pathetic mediocrity was the way they leaned, like good government workers sucking the dick of Big Daddy government. Worthless whores.
Matt chose to reply. “Oh you mean the criminals that stabbed me. Got arrested at the hospital and then pled to felonies. Yeah Florida, with the American counties are good like that.” Principal Andrews went real still. No shame. No fear. No penitence. He didn’t like that.
“Well be it as it may Mr. Berkshire we don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour here…” Matt cut him off responding with a deadpan tone. “You mean self-defense meant to save one’s own life while the cowardly and pathetic school workers look on with zero interest but to keep their money rolling in and will allow known gang members with records of violent acts and crimes that should have them expelled many times over, where in certain Democrat counties such cowardice and idiocy empowered a couple school shooters?”
Principal Andrews looked at the Matt with a note of disgust. “Look here Mr. Berkshire, your beliefs matter not one bit here. This isn’t Florida. We don’t like our way of life being disrupted by outside agitators who have problems with authority.”
Matt did his best not to roll his eyes and let the older fat man drone own as he dead-stared him. Lifeless and without emotion.
The man came to a finish and Matt spoke up without having listened to him or paid him any attention. “Great now that’s taken care of. Can I please get to class and finish my sentence of two years at your wonderful school?”
Principal Andrews huffed and snorted before calling in Vicky. Vicky stood in the corner after entering with a quiet and seamless presence. Matt felt disturbed and tried not betray his feelings as the young Vicky was perceived and not perceived to be moving.
Principal Andrews made the introductions and Matt nodded back. She was to be his chaperone for the day. They had the same classes and she was to show him the ropes so to speak. The ins and outs of the school. The locations of their classes.
He recognized her. It was hard not to. The way her appearance seemed to shift fluidly almost. The petite and skinny brunette ever so lightly had a big bust and blonde hair with curves added when she seemed to shift before his eyes. Like watching a film but each frame had a different person.
Matt didn’t say anything about it. Even if he did he would only be acknowledging his crazed state, if he had one. If.
Unlike an obedient puppy dog he got up in a slow and awkward fashion and followed behind her as his oddly disproportionate frame allowed. Causing her a note of concern for some reason. As if she was seeing something she shouldn’t have been….Or he was just weird. And Matt could admit to himself he was just weird. Part of his charm, he would jest about it at times. Not that he had many people to jest to now.
As If It Were Kismet Ch. 5
Following Vicky into the hall off to their first class was simple. She exchanged small talk and he slightly smiled as if to obviously suggest he was just being polite.
Inside his head, Matt was trying to figure out if he was having a psychotic break. The way Vicky looked kept changing and he looked at the other people around him and they stayed the same.
He was searching his mind as they were walking. And thus he wasn’t paying attention to where he was looking and so fell to his face forward over his feet seemingly out of nowhere.
A series of laughs erupted as it sunk in that he was obviously tripped. Like in prison this was a challenge to his superiority. If he let this pass he would be mocked and sneered at by this same group of boys. He wouldn’t walk to them like he was going to do nothing like a little bitch.
In a rage he turned and punched the stomach of the first face he saw. Some typical blonde haired wannabe jock. He knew from experience not to aim for the ribs. Instead he needed to aim for where he thought the belly button was.
Yells and screams blindly echoed around him as his after the punch he followed up his elbow of the opposite arm slamming into the face of the jock. Harder than a fist, the elbow struck the jock’s jaw and seemingly dropped him against a locker. Just in time to catch an errant and soft punch to the nose that sure enough hurt but did little to slow him down as his dad had taught him to fight through the pain. Blood and scars happened. They were a natural consequence of life to a man.
Taking the punch and falling further into his red state Matt headbutted the punch thrower before another guy arm bared his throat from behind. Which he managed to get his grip on the arm over a letterman jacked and jerk the unprepared boy to the side with him still latched on.
A few feet away from the lockers Matt knew his only chance was to jump and push off the lockers and knock the boy to the ground and so he did. He heard a thunk of the boy’s skull bouncing off the ground and he turned to pull out of the grapple.
The beatings he had taken from his father, the grapples, being choked unconscious. Had prepared him for fighting little bitches who didn’t know what a fight was. It wasn’t gay porn with rabbit punch fists flying.
Blood was running down his face and the pain started to hit him as the threats had been eliminated. Only then did he remember to breathe. Taking breathes as Vicky came up to him with tissues and took a hold of his nose.
“Owww owww owww what the fuck my nose could be broken.” He said to Vicky as she pulled his head up and back.
“It’s ok Carl. It’s done.” Matt tried to look to see who Vicky was talking to. It was a boy taller than his 5’9” by more than a small margin. The boy eyed him bored and annoyed before speaking. “What happened here?” An unoriginal line but one Matt couldn’t be a smart aleck about. “Well you see there was an outbreak of tripping and we all tripped over my dick. It happens.” Matt was about to laugh when Vicky seemed to pull up while still gripping his nose causing Matt no small amount of pain which he audibly evidenced.
Vicky spoke in a tone he wasn’t expecting. As if she was accustomed to issuing orders. “Keep Iris away from the hall till we sanitize the site. We have blood from at least three people contaminating the site. And have Jake bring me a spare jacket and shirt for this moron.”
Carl seemed to acknowledge her orders and seemed to blink away. Maybe the punch hit harder than he expected. He had no time to wonder as Vick took her hand away from his and pushed him against the lockers. With ease he had not been expecting from her form and stature.
Before he could respond Vicky licked his blood covered chin and then his lips and spoke to him. “Focus on me you little blood bag.” Her tone had an annoyed yet feminine sneer.
“Look into my eyes. Look at me. You belong to me. You are just another food source in a collection of food sources.” Her eyes were a beautiful hazel Matt thought. Almost green. Pretty like jewels in some old treasure collections. The eyes he could get lost in before kissing her. Finally Vicky was just a slight and petite brunette and he thought she was beautiful.
She would make a hell of a girlfriend. Some cute thing he could see laying on the beach in Florida on their sides laughing and smiling before trading light kisses while hands wandered innocently. Before his mind could drift further he felt her lips on his. It took him a second to mentally grasp the kiss but his arms were around her back as her hands were at his sides. His eyes reflexively closed as he saw hers close.
It was ineffable to Matt. Beyond words, what was happening. The kiss, the moments beforehand. The way his brain tickled with electricity and gentle warmth. He had never had a kiss like this and he had traded more than a few kisses with at least a few girls.
The kiss was like a warm bath with his consciousness slipping beneath the surface. Their lips only parted to try new angles and approaches as Matt struggled to take in breath. It was a moment he could have stayed trapped in for….he didn’t know. But a curt throat clearing by another girl pulled them out of the moment.
The girl was taller than Vicky. Blonde. With slight curves. Vicky addressed her bewildered and gobsmacked, and perhaps a bit embarrassed. “Tina?”

Hello! I’ve been looking for a new bra since my baby was born a little over three months ago. I’m overwhelmed with my search and would like some advice or recommendations.
I don’t know if such a bra exists, but my dream bra would be breastfeeding-friendly (possibly a nursing bra, but not necessarily), look modest under a t-shirt (should hide poky nipples and nursing pads), and be comfortable. For me, comfortable means that it should minimize jiggling, be snug but not dig in anywhere, and not be sweaty (as much as can be helped when carrying/wearing a very warm baby). I’m especially looking for something that keeps my breasts from touching each other or the skin below my breasts, because that’s not fun when I’m feeling overstimulated. I guess this means I need some good support, but I’d prefer not to shape or accentuate my breasts a whole lot; I just want to contain them. Ideally, I think the band of my bra should come up under the inframammary fold, but I can’t seem to find a bra that does this on me; I’m rather saggy, especially post-baby. Nor can I find a bra that comes close enough to my sternum to separate my breasts.
I’ve tried a 34G flexiwire nursing bra from Hotmilk and initially liked it, but found it digs into my armpits and shoulders, and my breasts drag the underwire down lower on my ribcage than feels comfortable. I’ve defaulted back to wearing my too-old-to-read-the-tag wirefree bras (I think they were Vanity Fair 36DD?) and just pulling them up when I need to nurse. They’re still decently comfortable and definitely were more so when it was new; the band used to fit very tightly but got pretty stretched even before I started nursing. My main complaints with the old bras are now that I’ve gotten floppier, my breasts tend to escape when I run or bend over, and again, I’d really like something that keeps my breasts apart and off my chest. I’ve done some other shopping and trying on, especially of sports bras, but I haven’t found anything that fit in both band and cup at stores near me, and I find the buying-before-trying process of shopping online rather daunting.
The calculator made me a 32I/34H US (loose underbust 33”, snug 31.5”, tight 30”, standing bust 40”, leaning 43.5”, lying 41”), but the pictures I’ve seen of this size look much rounder and not as floppy as what I have.
I’m not sure if I need something different as far as sizing, shape, or style of bra. I’d love some bra recommendations, or even just advice on how to proceed. Thanks!

Note: I posted a parody comment yesterday on one of Kelly's birth saga posts and some people kindly asked me to keep going. So, I wrote some more. Hope it raises a smile or a puff of air through the nose! Let's get into it...
Part 1: Shadows in the Candlelight
It was 8:20 PM, and all was peaceful. Geppetto was at his place by the fire, whittling a puppet—a simple fancy for my little Atticus, fast asleep in the hayloft above.
I sighed, laid down my hoop, and gazed through the rain-streaked windowpane at the impetuous treetops. Suddenly, my babe gave a violent kick, and I was flung upon the kitchen flagstones. A mighty gust tore through the room, pressing candle flames flat and ripping at the pages of my Bible.
“Geppetto!” I cried in alarm, but he was lost in his work. I gasped, staring at the candle Moonfawn had bought me that same afternoon (how we had laughed at its comical scrollwork and, as mirth subsided, danced with naked exaltation in the deep pools of our eyes). Despite the buffeting gale, it had remained lit with a steadfast flame where the others had snuffed out!
With throbbing, passionate conviction deep inside me, I knew it was the hand of the Lord who had stayed the cursed wind. And then I saw the blood-slicked stones, scarlet as an accusation, red and obscene like a harlot’s lolling tongue. Had Geppetto cut his thumb? Was this blood … mine?
“Go hence to the healer’s house,” Jesus said into my heart with a silvery laugh. “Find you there a surgeon, for your wound lies beyond a midwife’s skill to mend.” And at once, I was overcome with serene certainty that come what may, Moonfawn’s love would guide me through this hour of darkness.
“Geppetto,” I grated harshly, and he looked up in astonishment. “Saddle the mare and hitch the buggy. The hour has come, and we have a long mile to step this night.” Oh, Moonfawn! Where are you?
(To be continued)
Part 2: Ships in the Night
Geppetto lashed reins against the mare’s flanks, shielding his eyes against the driving rain and guiding us through the slow-moving I-80 traffic. I lay propped against a pile of macrame-bound decorative gourds in the buggy, wrapped in a periwinkle towel, though the clean straw Geppetto had forked in to soak up the blood was quickly turning red.
Floating in and out of a lucid dream, I could see Moonfawn’s haunting visage in front of me, but when I leaned in to kiss her pale face, she faded from my sight. Oh! You promised me, my dearest heart! You promised to be with me here at the end! Bitterly, I left another message on her machine, and tossed the phone over the side of the buggy.
“Easy now,” chuckled Geppetto, over the sound of screeching brakes and breaking glass. “That phone cost me three copper shillings! And see, we’ve arrived at the inn.”
He hoisted me from the buggy and thumped heavily on the iron-banned door with his gloved fist. I noticed he was still holding the half-finished puppet. Jesus again. It had to be, who else?
“Open up, in the name of Yuaha, Pentach of the Golden Isles!” he cried hoarsely. The din inside subsided, but the door remained shut fast. “Please,” I whimpered. “In the name of J.C. Penny, leaders in affordable home decor!” The door swung inward, light spilling over the street.
And there, in the doorway, stood Moonfawn.
I dashed headlong into her arms, relief and joy overwhelming me. I drank in her perfume, kissed her neck, and knew no more.
The door swung shut.
(To be continued)
Part 3: An Unexpected Guest
Moonfawn swept an arm over a table of the smoky inn, sending dishes of stew and tankards of ale crashing to the floor. She laid me on the tabletop and ripped the bodice of my maternity corset wide so that I might breathe. She laid a spring of palest winterfrost blossom twixt my breasts, to aid my breathing and share the poignant sorrow of the last day of spring. I whispered a silent prayer I had on my cleanest camisole. Jesus again. It had to be.
And so, at 10:50 PM the surgeon-general swept into the room. “What is the meaning of this?!” he roared. “This woman is dilated half a crown! And the babe is crying for brandeh, is there no one in this rom without cloth for ears?? I can see its wee face peeking out from here. Nurse! Attend me at once, this instant!”
Nurses appeared bearing silvery trays forceps of cold steel and several large bottles of brandy. I shivered, yet was not afraid. Somewhere close, I felt Moonfawns cool hand slip into my own.
Shrugging into his white coat, the surgeon general turned to me. “I’m dreadfully sorry about all this,” he mumbled. “Now, where on earth is that chloroform?”
“Not so fast,” someone drawled from a darkened corner of the inn. A figure rose, casting back a deep hood.
The room gasped in shock.
“Fraulein Fännyfärhht!”
(To be continued)
Part 4: Showdown at Dan’s Bar & Birthing Center
“Step aside, doctor,” the matronly lady commanded. Her hair was swept into a bun of iron, hard and cold like the flat planes of her face. “I have tended to this woman in eons past! I know the petals of her flower better than her own husband here,” she gestured towards Geppetto, and paused. “Though perhaps not so well as some.”
Beneath my swoon, I felt my face burn crimson in sweet shame, remembering again that night at Henley Manor, on the beach, when I was named Starchild in the light of the sacred candle. I gripped Moondawns hand tightly.
The surgeon general made a lunge for the door, but the Fraulein’s booted foot shot out and tripped him up, sending him sprawling to the floor.
“Let’s see who you really are, doctor!” I watched aghast as the midwife reached down to the hapless doctor’s neck and with one smooth motion, whipped off the indiarubber mask.
“Jesus Christ!”
There on the floor, grinning weakly, was Jesus, the son of God. A nurse moaned and slid to the floor, and lay there, twitching. Through the fog of chloroform, I gazed on his face in utter rapture.
“Hi, guys,” he said into the shocked silence. “I’m back. Uhhh… sorry, I got kind of held up.”
Standing up awkwardly, Jesus stepped to the table and faced Moonfawn. “I think the jig is up,” he murmured, reaching out to her neck. Moonfawn held her head proudly, eyes glittering with tears, as Jesus slipped off her mask.
“Marmee!”
Another nurse slumped to the floor, brandy glass shattering.
“You know,” said a small piping voice from between my legs. “I’ve been out for the last 10 minutes, and I could really use a drink.”
And that, my dearest friends, is the story of the birth of Tess Stickle, at 12:09 PM.

abandon, ability, able, about, above, absence, absolute, absolutely, abstract, abundance, academy, accent, accept, access, accident, accompany, accomplish, according, account, accurate, achieve, achievement, acid, acknowledge, acquire, across, action, active, activity, actor, actual, actually, adapt, addition, additional, address, adequate, adjust, administration, admire, admission, admit, adolescent, adopt, adult, advance, advantage, adventure, advertise, advice, advise, adviser, advocate, affair, affect, afford, afraid, after, afternoon, again, against, age, agency, agenda, agent, aggressive, ago, agree, agreement, agriculture, ahead, aid, aim, air, aircraft, airline, airport, alarm, album, alcohol, alive, all, alliance, allow, ally, almost, alone, along, already, also, alter, alternative, although, always, amateur, amazing, ambition, ambulance, among, amount, analysis, analyst, analyze, ancient, and, anger, angle, angry, animal, anniversary, announce, annual, another, answer, anticipate, anxiety, any, anybody, anymore, anyone, anything, anyway, anywhere, apart, apartment, apologize, apparent, apparently, appeal, appear, appearance, apple, application, apply, appoint, appointment, appreciate, approach, appropriate, approval, approve, approximately, architect, area, argue, argument, arise, arm, armed, army, around, arrange, arrangement, arrest, arrival, arrive, art, article, artist, artistic, as, ashamed, aside, ask, asleep, aspect, assault, assert, assess, assessment, asset, assign, assignment, assist, assistance, assistant, associate, association, assume, assumption, assure, at, athlete, athletic, atmosphere, attach, attack, attempt, attend, attention, attitude, attorney, attract, attraction, attractive, attribute, audience, author, authority, auto, available, average, avoid, award, aware, awareness, away, awful, baby, back, background, bad, badly, bag, balance, ball, ban, band, bank, bar, barely, barrel, barrier, base, baseball, basic, basically, basis, basket, basketball, bath, bathroom, battery, battle, be, beach, bear, beat, beautiful, beauty, because, become, bed, bedroom, bee, beef, beer, before, begin, beginning, behavior, behind, being, belief, believe, bell, belong, below, belt, bench, bend, beneath, benefit, beside, besides, best, bet, better, between, beyond, bicycle, big, bike, bill, billion, bind, biological, bird, birth, birthday, bit, bite, black, blade, blame, blanket, blind, block, blood, blow, blue, board, boat, body, bomb, bombing, bond, bone, book, boom, boot, border, boring, born, borrow, boss, both, bother, bottle, bottom, boundary, bowl, box, boy, boyfriend, brain, branch, brand, brave, bread, break, breakfast, breast, breath, breathe, brick, bridge, brief, briefly, bright, brilliant, bring, broad, broken, brother, brown, brush, buck, budget, build, building, bullet, bunch, burden, burn, bury, bus, business, busy, but, butter, button, buy, buyer, by, cabin, cabinet, cable, cake, calculate, call, camera, camp, campaign, campus, can, Canadian, cancer, candidate, cap, capability, capable, capacity, capital, captain, capture, car, carbon, card, care, career, careful, carefully, carrier, carry, case, cash, cast, cat, catch, category, Catholic, cause, ceiling, celebrate, celebration, celebrity, cell, center, central, century, CEO, ceremony, certain, certainly, chain, chair, chairman, challenge, chamber, champion, championship, chance, change, changing, channel, chapter, character, characteristic, characterize, charge, charity, chart, chase, cheap, check, cheek, cheese, chef, chemical, chest, chicken, chief, child, childhood, Chinese, chip, chocolate, choice, cholesterol, choose, Christian, Christmas, church, cigarette, circle, circumstance, cite, citizen, city, civil, civilian, claim, class, classic, classroom, clean, clear, clearly, client, climate, climb, clinic, clinical, clock, close, closely, closer, clothes, clothing, cloud, club, clue, cluster, coach, coal, coalition, coast, coat, code, coffee, cognitive, cold, collapse, colleague, collect, collection, collective, college, colonial, color, column, combination, combine, come, comedy, comfort, comfortable, command, commander, comment, commercial, commission, commit, commitment, committee, common, communicate, communication, community, company, compare, comparison, compete, competition, competitive, competitor, complain, complaint, complete, completely, complex, complexity, compliance, complicate, complicated, component, compose, composition, comprehensive, computer, concentrate, concentration, concept, concern, concerned, concert, conclude, conclusion, concrete, condition, conduct, conference, confidence, confident, confirm, conflict, confront, confusion, Congress, congressional, connect, connection, consciousness, consensus, consequence, conservative, consider, considerable, consideration, consist, consistent, constant, constantly, constitute, constitutional, construct, construction, consultant, consume, consumer, consumption, contact, contain, container, contemporary, content, contest, context, continue, continued, contract, contrast, contribute, contribution, control, controversial, controversy, convention, conventional, conversation, convert, conviction, convince, cook, cookie, cooking, cool, cooperation, cop, cope, copy, core, corn, corner, corporate, corporation, correct, correspondent, cost, cotton, couch, could, council, count, counter, country, county, couple, courage, course, court, cousin, cover, coverage, cow, crack, craft, crash, crazy, cream, create, creation, creative, creature, credit, crew, crime, criminal, crisis, criteria, critic, critical, criticism, criticize, crop, cross, crowd, crucial, cry, cultural, culture, cup, curious, current, currently, curriculum, custom, customer, cut, cycle, dad, daily, damage, dance, danger, dangerous, dare, dark, darkness, data, database, date, daughter, day, dead, deal, dealer, dear, death, debate, debt, decade, decide, decision, deck, declare, decline, decrease, deep, deeply, deer, defeat, defend, defendant, defense, defensive, deficit, define, definitely, definition, degree, delay, deliver, delivery, demand, democracy, Democratic, Democrat, demonstrate, demonstration, deny, department, depend, dependent, depending, depict, depression, depth, deputy, derive, describe, description, desert, deserve, design, designer, desire, desk, desperate, despite, destroy, destruction, detail, detailed, detect, detection, detective, determine, develop, developing, development, device, devil, dialogue, diet, differ, difference, different, differently, difficult, difficulty, dig, digital, dimension, dining, dinner, direct, direction, directly, director, dirt, disability, disagree, disappear, disaster, discipline, disclose, discover, discovery, discrimination, discuss, discussion, disease, dish, dismiss, disorder, display, dispute, distance, distinct, distinction, distinguish, distribute, distribution, district, diverse, diversity, divide, division, divorce, DNA, do, doctor, document, dog, domestic, dominant, dominate, door, double, doubt, down, downtown, dozen, draft, drag, drama, dramatic, dramatically, draw, drawer, drawing, dream, dress, drink, drive, driver, drop, drug, dry, due, during, dust, duty, dwell, dying, dynamic, each, eager, ear, earlier, early, earn, earnings, earth, earthquake, ease, easily, east, eastern, easy, eat, economic, economy, edge, edit, edition, editor, educate, education, educational, educator, effect, effective, effectively, efficiency, efficient, effort, egg, eight, either, elderly, elect, election, electric, electrical, electricity, electronic, element, elementary, eliminate, elite, else, elsewhere, e-mail, embrace, emerge, emergency, emission, emotion, emotional, emphasis, emphasize, employ, employee, employer, employment, empty, enable, encounter, encourage, end, enemy, energy, enforcement, engage, engine, engineer, engineering, English, enhance, enjoy, enormous, enough, ensure, enter, enterprise, entertain, entertainment, entire, entirely, entrance, entry, environment, environmental, episode, equal, equally, equipment, equivalent, era, error, escape, especially, essay, essential, essentially, establish, establishment, estate, estimate, etc, ethics, ethnic, European, evaluate, evaluation, evening, event, eventually, ever, every, everybody, everyday, everyone, everything, everywhere, evidence, evolution, evolve, exact, exactly, exam, examination, examine, example, exceed, excellent, except, exception, exchange, exciting, executive, exercise, exhibit, exhibition, exist, existence, existing, expand, expansion, expect, expectation, expense, expensive, experience, experiment, expert, explain, explanation, explode, explore, explosion, expose, exposure, express, expression, extend, extension, extensive, extent, external, extra, extraordinary, extreme, extremely, eye, fabric, face, facility, fact, factor, factory, faculty, fade, fail, failure, fair, fairly, faith, fall, false, familiar, family, famous, fan, fantasy, far, farm, farmer, fashion, fast, fat, fate, father, fault, favor, favorite, fear, feature, federal, fee, feed, feel, feeling, fellow, female, fence, festival, few, fewer, fiber, fiction, field, fifteen, fifth, fifty, fight, fighter, fighting, figure, file, fill, film, final, finally, finance, financial, find, finding, fine, finger, finish, fire, firm, first, fish, fishing, fit, fitness, five, fix, flag, flame, flat, flavor, flee, flesh, flight, float, floor, flow, flower, fly, focus, folk, follow, following, food, foot, football, for, force, foreign, forest, forever, forget, form, formal, formation, former, formula, forth, fortune, forward, found, foundation, founder, four, fourth, frame, framework, free, freedom, freeze, French, frequency, frequent, frequently, fresh, friend, friendly, friendship, from, front, fruit, frustration, fuel, fulfill, full, fully, fun, function, fund, fundamental, funding, funeral, funny, furniture, furthermore, future, gain, galaxy, gallery, game, gang, gap, garage, garden, garlic, gas, gate, gather, gay, gaze, gear, gender, gene, general, generally, generate, generation, genetic, gentleman, gently, German, gesture, get, ghost, giant, gift, gifted, girl, girlfriend, give, given, glad, glance, glass, global, glove, go, goal, God, gold, golden, golf, good, govern, government, governor, grab, grace, grade, gradually, graduate, grain, grand, grandmother, grant, grass, grave, gray, great, green, grocery, ground, group, grow, growing, growth, guarantee, guard, guess, guest, guide, guideline, guilty, gun, guy, habit, habitat, hair, half, hall, hand, handful, handle, hang, happen, happy, harbor, hard, hardly, hat, hate, have, he, head, headline, headquarters, health, healthy, hear, hearing, heart, heat, heaven, heavily, heavy, heel, height, helicopter, hell, hello, help, helpful, hence, her, herb, here, heritage, hero, herself, hey, hi, hide, high, highlight, highly, highway, hill, him, himself, hip, hire, his, historic, historical, history, hit, hold, hole, holiday, holy, home, homeless, honest, honey, honor, hope, horizon, horror, horse, hospital, host, hot, hotel, hour, house, household, housing, how, however, huge, human, humor, hundred, hungry, hunter, hunting, hurt, husband, hypothesis, ice, idea, ideal, identification, identify, identity, ignore, ill, illegal, illness, illustrate, image, imagination, imagine, immediate, immediately, immigrant, immigration, impact, implement, implication, imply, importance, important, impose, impossible, impress, impression, impressive, improve, improvement, incentive, incident, include, including, income, incorporate, increase, increased, increasingly, incredible, indeed, independence, independent, index, indicate, indication, individual, industrial, industry, infant, infection, inflation, influence, inform, information, ingredient, initial, initially, initiative, injury, inner, innocent, inquiry, inside, insight, insist, inspire, install, instance, instead, institute, institution, institutional, instruction, instructor, instrument, insurance, intellectual, intelligence, intend, intense, intensity, intention, interaction, interest, interested, interesting, internal, international, Internet, interpret, interpretation, intervention, interview, introduce, introduction, invasion, invest, investigation, investigator, investment, investor, invite, involve, involved, involvement, Iraqi, Irish, iron, Islamic, island, Israeli, issue, it, Italian, item, its, itself, jacket, jail, Japanese, jet, Jew, Jewish, job, join, joint, joke, journal, journalist, journey, joy, judge, judgment, juice, jump, junior, jury, just, justice, justify, keep, key, kick, kid, kill, killer, killing, kind, king, kiss, kitchen, knee, knife, knock, know, knowledge, lab, label, labor, laboratory, lack, lady, lake, land, landscape, language, lap, large, largely, last, late, later, Latin, latter, laugh, launch, law, lawsuit, lawyer, lay, layer, lead, leader, leadership, leading, leaf, league, lean, learn, learning, least, leather, leave, left, leg, legacy, legal, legend, legislation, legislative, legislator, legitimate, lemon, length, less, lesson, let, letter, level, liberal, library, license, lie, life, lifestyle, lifetime, lift, light, like, likely, limit, limitation, limited, line, link, lip, list, listen, literary, literature, little, live, living, load, loan, local, locate, location, lock, long, long-term, look, loose, lose, loss, lost, lot, lots, loud, love, lovely, lover, low, lower, luck, lucky, lunch, luxury, machine, mad, magazine, mail, main, mainly, maintain, maintenance, major, majority, make, maker, makeup, male, mall, man, manage, management, manager, manner, manufacturer, manufacturing, many, map, margin, mark, market, marketing, marriage, married, marry, mask, mass, massive, master, match, material, math, matter, may, maybe, mayor, me, meal, mean, meaning, meanwhile, measure, measurement, meat, mechanism, media, medical, medication, medicine, medium, meet, meeting, member, membership, memory, mental, mention, menu, mere, merely, mess, message, metal, meter, method, Mexican, middle, might, military, milk, million, mind, mine, minister, minor, minority, minute, miracle, mirror, miss, missile, mission, mistake, mix, mixture, mm-hmm, mode, model, moderate, modern, modest, mom, moment, money, monitor, month, mood, moon, moral, more, moreover, morning, mortgage, most, mostly, mother, motion, motivation, motor, mountain, mouse, mouth, move, movement, movie, Mr, Mrs, Ms, much, multiple, murder, muscle, museum, music, musical, musician, Muslim, must, mutual, my, myself, mystery, myth, naked, name, narrative, narrow, nation, national, native, natural, naturally, nature, near, nearby, nearly, necessarily, necessary, neck, need, negative, negotiate, negotiation, neighbor, neighborhood, neither, nerve, nervous, net, network, never, nevertheless, new, newly, news, newspaper, next, nice, night, nine, no, nobody, nod, noise, nomination, nominee, none, nonetheless, nor, normal, normally, north, northern, nose, not, note, nothing, notice, notion, novel, now, nowhere, nuclear, number, numerous, nurse, nut, object, objective, obligation, observation, observe, observer, obtain, obvious, obviously, occasion, occasionally, occupation, occupy, occur, ocean, odd, odds, of, off, offense, offensive, offer, office, officer, official, often, oh, oil, okay, old, Olympic, on, once, one, ongoing, onion, online, only, onto, open, opening, operate, operating, operation, operator, opinion, opponent, opportunity, oppose, opposed, opposite, opposition, option, or, orange, order, ordinary, organic, organization, organize, orientation, origin, original, originally, other, others, otherwise, ought, our, ours, ourselves, out, outcome, outside, oven, over, overall, overcome, overlook, owe, own, owner, pace, pack, package, page, pain, painful, paint, painter, painting, pair, pale, Palestinian, palm, pan, panel, panic, pant, paper, paragraph, parent, park, parking, part, participant, participate, participation, particle, particular, particularly, partly, partner, partnership, party, pass, passage, passenger, passion, past, patch, path, patient, pattern, pause, pay, payment, PC, peace, peak, peer, pen, penalty, people, pepper, per, perceive, percentage, perception, perfect, perfectly, perform, performance, perhaps, period, permanent, permission, permit, person, personal, personality, personally, personnel, perspective, persuade, pet, phase, phenomenon, philosophy, phone, photo, photographer, phrase, physical, physically, physician, piano, pick, picture, pie, piece, pile, pilot, pine, pink, pipe, pitch, place, plan, plane, planet, planning, plant, plastic, plate, platform, play, player, please, pleasure, plenty, plot, plus, PM, pocket, poem, poet, poetry, point, police, policy, political, politically, politician, politics, poll, pollution, pool, poor, pop, popular, population, porch, port, portion, portrait, portray, pose, position, positive, possess, possession, possibility, possible, possibly, post, pot, potato, potential, potentially, pound, pour, poverty, powder, power, powerful, practical, practice, prayer, preach, precisely, predict, prediction, prefer, preference, pregnancy, pregnant, preparation, prepare, prescription, presence, present, presentation, preserve, president, presidential, press, pressure, pretend, pretty, prevent, previous, previously, price, pride, priest, primarily, primary, prime, principal, principle, print, prior, priority, prison, prisoner, privacy, private, probably, problem, procedure, proceed, process, processing, processor, proclaim, produce, producer, product, production, profession, professional, professor, profile, profit, program, progress, progressive, project, prominent, promise, promote, prompt, proof, proper, properly, property, proportion, proposal, propose, prosecutor, prospect, protect, protection, protein, protest, proud, prove, provide, provider, province, provision, psychological, psychology, public, publication, publicity, publish, publisher, pull, punishment, purchase, pure, purpose, pursue, push, put, qualify, quality, quarter, quarterback, quarterly, queen, quest, question, quick, quickly, quiet, quietly, quit, quite, quote, race, racial, radiation, radical, radio, rail, rain, raise, range, rank, rapid, rapidly, rare, rarely, rate, rather, rating, ratio, raw, reach, react, reaction, reader, reading, ready, real, reality, realize, really, reason, reasonable, recall, receive, recent, recently, reception, recipe, recipient, recognition, recognize, recommend, recommendation, record, recording, recover, recovery, recruit, red, reduce, reduction, refer, reference, reflect, reflection, reform, refugee, refuse, regard, regarding, regardless, regime, region, regional, register, regular, regularly, regulate, regulation, regulator, reinforce, reject, relate, relation, relationship, relative, relatively, relax, release, relevant, relief, religion, religious, rely, remain, remaining, remarkable, remember, remind, remote, remove, repeat, repeatedly, replace, replacement, reply, report, reporter, represent, representation, representative, Republican, reputation, request, require, requirement, research, researcher, resemble, reservation, resident, residential, resign, resist, resistance, resolution, resolve, resort, resource, respect, respond, response, responsibility, responsible, rest, restaurant, restore, restriction, result, retain, retire, retirement, return, reveal, revenue, review, revolution, rhythm, rice, rich, rid, ride, rifle, right, ring, rise, risk, river, road, rock, role, roll, romantic, roof, room, root, rope, rose, rough, roughly, round, route, routine, row, rub, rubber, rude, ruin, rule, run, running, rural, rush, Russian, sacred, sad, safe, safety, sake, salad, salary, sale, sales, salt, same, sample, sanction, sand, satellite, satisfaction, satisfied, satisfy, sauce, save, saving, say, scale, scandal, scare, scatter, scenario, scene, schedule, scheme, scholar, scholarship, school, science, scientific, scientist, scope, score, scream, screen, script, sea, search, season, seat, second, secondary, secret, secretary, section, sector, secure, security, see, seed, seek, seem, segment, seize, select, selection, self, sell, Senate, senator, send, senior, sense, sensitive, sentence, separate, sequence, series, serious, seriously, servant, serve, service, session, set, setting, settle, settlement, seven, several, severe, sex, sexual, shade, shadow, shake, shall, shallow, shape, share, sharp, she, sheet, shelf, shell, shelter, shift, shine, ship, shirt, shock, shoe, shoot, shooting, shop, shopping, short, shortly, shot, should, shoulder, shout, show, shower, shrug, shut, shy, sibling, sick, side, sigh, sight, sign, signal, significant, significantly, silence, silent, silver, similar, similarly, simple, simply, sin, since, sing, singer, single, sink, sir, sister, sit, site, situation, six, size, ski, skill, skin, skirt, sky, slave, sleep, slice, slide, slight, slightly, slip, slow, slowly, small, smart, smell, smile, smoke, smooth, snap, snow, so, so-called, soccer, social, society, soft, software, soil, solar, soldier, sole, solid, solution, solve, some, somebody, somehow, someone, something, sometimes, somewhat, somewhere, son, song, soon, sophisticated, sorry, sort, soul, sound, soup, source, south, southern, Soviet, space, Spanish, speak, speaker, special, specialist, species, specific, specifically, specify, speech, speed, spend, spending, spin, spirit, spiritual, split, spoil, sponsor, sport, spot, spray, spread, spring, square, squeeze, stability, stable, staff, stage, stain, stair, stake, stand, standard, standing, star, stare, start, state, statement, station, statistical, status, stay, steady, steal, steel, steep, stem, step, stick, still, stimulate, stimulus, stir, stock, stomach, stone, stop, storage, store, storm, story, straight, strange, stranger, strategic, strategy, stream, street, strength, strengthen, stress, stretch, strike, string, strip, stroke, strong, strongly, structural, structure, struggle, student, studio, study, stuff, stupid, style, subject, submit, subsequent, substance, substantial, substitute, succeed, success, successful, successfully, such, sudden, suddenly, sue, suffer, sufficient, sugar, suggest, suggestion, suicide, suit, summer, summit, sun, super, supply, support, supporter, suppose, supposed, Supreme, sure, surely, surface, surgery, surprise, surprised, surprising, surprisingly, surround, survey, survival, survive, survivor, suspect, sustain, swear, sweep, sweet, swim, swing, switch, symbol, symptom, system, table, tactic, tail, take, tale, talent, talk, tall, tank, tap, tape, target, task, taste, tax, taxi, tea, teach, teacher, teaching, team, tear, technical, technique, technology, teen, teenager, telephone, telescope, television, tell, temperature, temporary, ten, tend, tendency, tennis, tension, tent, term, terms, terrible, territory, terror, terrorist, test, testimony, testing, text, than, thank, thanks, that, the, theater, their, them, theme, themselves, then, theory, therapy, there, therefore, these, they, thick, thin, thing, think, thinking, third, thirty, this, those, though, thought, thousand, threat, threaten, three, throat, through, throughout, throw, thus, ticket, tie, tight, time, tiny, tip, tire, tissue, title, to, tobacco, today, toe, together, toilet, token, tolerate, tomato, tomorrow, tone, tongue, tonight, too, tool, tooth, top, topic, toss, total, totally, touch, tough, tour, tourist, tournament, toward, towards, tower, town, toy, trace, track, trade, tradition, traditional, traffic, tragedy, trail, train, training, transfer, transform, transformation, transition, translate, translation, transmission, transmit, transport, transportation, travel, treat, treatment, treaty, tree, tremendous, trend, trial, tribe, trick, trip, troop, trouble, truck, true, truly, trust, truth, try, tube, tunnel, turn, TV, twelve, twenty, twice, twin, two, type, typical, typically, ugly, ultimate, ultimately, unable, uncle, undergo, understand, understanding, unfortunately, uniform, union, unique, unit, United, universal, universe, university, unknown, unless, unlike, until, unusual, up, upon, upper, urban, urge, us, use, used, useful, user, usual, usually, utility, utilize, vacation, valley, valuable, value, variable, variation, variety, various, vary, vast, vegetable, vehicle, venture, version, versus, very, vessel, veteran, via, victim, victory, video, view, viewer, village, violate, violation, violence, violent, virtually, virtue, virus, visibility, visible, vision, visit, visitor, visual, vital, voice, volume, voluntary, volunteer, vote, voter, voting, wage, wait, wake, walk, wall, wander, want, war, warm, warn, warning, wash, waste, watch, water, wave, way, we, weak, weakness, wealth, wealthy, weapon, wear, weather, web, website, wedding, week, weekend, weekly, weigh, weight, welcome, welfare, well, west, western, wet, what, whatever, wheel, when, whenever, where, whereas, whether, which, while, whisper, white, who, whole, whom, whose, why, wide, widely, widespread, wife, wild, wildlife, will, willing, win, wind, window, wine, wing, winner, winter, wipe, wire, wisdom, wise, wish, with, withdraw, within, without, witness, woman, wonder, wonderful, wood, wooden, word, work, worker, working, workout, workplace, works, workshop, world, worried, worry, worth, would, wound, wrap, write, writer, writing, wrong, yard, yeah, year, yell, yellow, yes, yesterday, yet, yield, you, young, your, yours, yourself, youth, zone.

15 male, 5’8 130 ibs I take no medication and have no medical history, I recently noticed a lump in the left side of my neck, its firm and I noticed it because I felt it when swallowing, I also had a lump randomly show up under my armpit months ago but never thought anything of it (don’t know if that’s related) but does anyone know what this is? 😭

Since October I've been having weird pain in my left breast, a burning/aching that felt like it was coming from my chest wall, nothing like normal hormonal pain. Everything I googled seemed to indicate this wasn't a symptom of cancer, so I brushed it off. It would come and go for months or weeks at a time, but not really in-sync with my period. It was pretty random.
The past 3ish weeks, the pain has been back consistently, this time more stabbing, and it's migrated to my armpit. There's now a constant pinching/stabbing feeling in my armpit. I've had swollen lymph nodes before and it doesn't feel like that. It's deeper somehow? And at times it radiates all the way down my bicep. It's not swollen or tender to the touch. It's almost like a pinched nerve feeling.
I haven't felt any lumps anywhere, but as of the last few days, I think maybe I feel something tiny behind my nipple, and I think a new vein has appeared from the center of my chest to my nipple. I'm very pale though and my husband says it doesn't look any different to him.
All in all, I know these don't sound like classic breast cancer symptoms, but I have a very strong family history (I'm BRCA negative) and have already had a suspicious (non cancerous) lump removed in the past. That lump never caused any pain, and was found at a routine checkup five-ish years ago.
I don't know if I'm just whipping myself into a health anxiety frenzy or if there's something wrong with me. The pain itself isn't terrible, but I've never felt sensations like this before.
Has anyone felt the same burning/stabbing pain that I have? Does lymph node cancer pain feel different than the kind of lymph node pain you get with a run of the mill infection?
I have a gynecologist appointment next week and I'm going to ask that she refer me to an ultrasound, but I'm really freaking out. I'm in my early 30s.

This evening when getting ready for bed I noticed I had these acne like bumps on my sides, mostly on the sides of my belly and one on the side of a breast/under an armpit. It’s not like a rash or anything, I have maybe 4 or 5 spread out in total. They don’t hurt or itch, so I’m just now noticing them. Am I the only one? (/is this a cause for concern?)

The garage door shut with a groan behind us, closing us in the gloom of the single bulb hanging over the car.
Mother took a drag off her cigarette and sighed as she exhaled, the smoke filled the cabin of the Ford and stung my eyes.
“You really disappointed me today, Julianne," she tapped her cigarette in the ashtray below the dash, "you embarrassed me in front of the other mothers at the Ice Cream Social, shoveling down seconds and thirds like a pig. I thought I raised you better than that.”
She took another drag, daintily holding the cigarette between her perfectly manicured fingers.
“I'm going to have to tell your brother about this," she continued, “he'll have to come up with a punishment fit for a pig."
I felt my stomach drop. My kid brother, Thomas, was only six, but could be exceptionally cruel. Mother seemed to encourage him and was deferring to him more and more frequently for how the house was run, especially concerning my upbringing.
"Mother, please, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm sorry I was a pig and ate so much ice cream. I promise I won't do it again, I'll never eat any ice cream again," I was pleading with stone, unyielding.
“Hush your mouth. Go to your room and wait for Thomas," she put out the cigarette and got out of the car, I had no choice but to follow.
It felt like walking to the gallows as I stepped inside the house and headed towards the stairs to go to my room. Thomas had grown fond recently of physical punishment, he obviously delighted in Mother whipping me with a belt or, recently, Mother had allowed him to start beating me with a wooden spoon. He would squeal and giggle like a normal child watching bubbles in the wind while I screamed. I was dreading whatever was going to happen tonight, I chastised myself for eating that ice cream, I should have known she would show up. My sins were always laid bare.
Down the hall, I could hear Thomas watching television in the den. I only got to watch TV for half an hour on Saturday morning and new episodes of Happy Days with Mother and Thomas. Thomas got to watch all the TV he wanted. He could listen to the radio and turntable as much as he wanted, as loud as he wanted. Thomas had an entire room just for his toys.
I entered my bedroom, it was a space I occupied, but it didn't feel like mine. Mother kept it spartan, white walls and white bedspread. A crucifix over the bed and a painting of Jesus over the door. I had my desk and chair and a dresser with some of the porcelain dolls Daddy gave me before he died that Mother let me keep. That was it.
I placed my book bag down and sat on my bed, waiting for Thomas. It was a while, sitting there with nothing but my own thoughts and staring at the open door. I felt humiliated, I was almost thirteen and my entire life was dictated by my brother. Mother kept the house in constant lockdown to keep Thomas a secret. No outsiders were allowed in. I couldn't have friends because she was afraid I would mention him or sneak a friend in to gawk at my brother and tease him for being different.
I would never make fun of him, I was terrified of him. Terrified of what he was and what he was becoming.
Eventually I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and I felt my heart start beating faster and my palms began to sweat. I kneaded my skirt in my hands, trying to calm myself and dry my palms. His slow arrhythmic footsteps came down the hall and I watched him as he entered the room.
I couldn't help but internally recoil at his appearance, even though I'd known him since he was born, I could never adjust to how unnatural he appeared. Thomas had been born at home and had never seen a doctor, but he was obviously unwell.
He was six years old and was barely over two feet tall, but very squat and wide. His skin was thick and gray, the whites of his beady eyes were yellow and his hair was wispy and white like an old man's, spreading out like a halo around his gargoyle face. A slight odor of decomposition hung about him, it reminded me faintly of garbage cans on a hot summer day. I hated when Mother made me help him with a bath, his skin felt like old brittle leather that flaked onto my clothes in gray flecks. His body was dense like concrete, I could barely lift him into the tub. Picking him up forced his hair into my face where that smell of rot would fill my nose, causing me to gag, silently, so as not to offend him and draw any ire from him or Mother.
Today, Thomas was wearing bib overalls with a red and green striped sweater underneath, reminding me of a grotesque doll.
“Mama says you acted like a piggy today at the ice cream social,” he spoke up to me in his unsettlingly high pitched, yet raspy voice, like a child that smoked as much as Mother, "you need to come down for dinner right now for your punishment for embarrassing Mama."
He turned and walked back down the stairs and I had no choice but to follow his toddling form downstairs to the dining table. We entered the kitchen and the table was placed with two settings. Mother was already seated and Thomas clambered up into his booster seat at his normal spot next to Mother. She took a drag off her cigarette and motioned vaguely to the floor without even looking at me.
Neatly situated on the linoleum was my dinner, not on a plate, but directly on the floor. A pork chop, scoop of mashed potatoes, and a small pile of peas. No utensils, either.
Thomas giggled with glee upon seeing my face.
“You have Mama's permission now to eat like a piggy, now. No hands! Piggies just use their face!” He stood up in his chair and reached out for Mother’s ash tray and flung it out over my meal, peppering my dinner with cigarette ash and butts.
"Oops! Piggies don't mind trash though, do they, Mama?” he giggled and the sound filled me with rage.
"No, they don't,” Mother replied coolly while maneuvering her ashtray back in place and carefully putting out her cigarette before saying prayer.
As angry as I was, I got down on my hands and knees and did my best at eating what I could without using my hands. I knew if I refused, it would be far worse. The whole meal, Thomas made pig noises and would reach down and poke me with his fork, making comments about what a fat piggy I was and how he wished he could roast and eat me. I doubted Mother would even object if he actually did kill me and eat me.
Gagging my way through another bite of ashy pork chop, I felt a warm splat over my head and heard Thomas giggling. I reached up and felt he had dumped mashed potatoes into my hair.
Choking down tears, I asked Mother if I could clean the floor and bathe. She rolled her eyes and excused me to clear the table for them as well while she changed Thomas into his pajamas. Picking him up, she walked out of the room and Thomas stuck his putrid little purple tongue out at me before they made it out the kitchen door.
I silently cried while I cleared the table and washed the dinner dishes. Tears splashed down as I mopped up the mess from my food on the floor. I hated how awful Thomas was. I hated how they treated me. Ever since Daddy died and Thomas showed up, I was their punching bag. I missed Daddy so much.
Mother was kinder then, too. She was still severe, but Dad kept her tempered. After he died, there was a change that came over her. I was only six, so I didn't remember her too much from before, but I did remember her gushing on and on when she was pregnant with Thomas. How the baby was a gift from Our Heavenly Father, that it was going to complete our broken family.
My sixth birthday happened right after Daddy died and I remember sitting on the patio crying while the house was full of people after the funeral, normally he would have gotten me a new doll and a chocolate bar, instead I was forgotten. No doll. No chocolate. Just funeral potatoes and a house full of cigarette smoke from the adults.
Nobody remembered. The closest thing I got was my dad's sister, Aunt Judy, sitting next to me on the patio step for a few minutes of comfortable silence before giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. I don't think she knew her brother was memorialized on my birthday. Next year, Thomas was born the day before my birthday, so it was completely eclipsed as Mother had just birthed her new love into the world…
I stopped mid mop as a lightbulb finally went off. I had never put much thought into the dates before.
Thomas was born a full year after Daddy died. He couldn't be his dad. Who was Thomas’ actual father?
Washing mashed potatoes out of my hair that evening, I ran over and over the timeline. No matter how I parsed it out, Thomas was only my half brother. Going to bed that night, I kept myself awake, going over and over again to make sure. I couldn't remember any men being around at that time, but that didn't mean much. Adults can easily hide things from children. Tension began throbbing through my head and I felt queasy. Mother had always known all of my secrets, able to sniff them out like a bloodhound out or using Thomas to spy. Now I had one of Mother's secrets and I didn't know what to do with it.
First I wanted to confirm it, but it would mean snooping, which was difficult in a house that was rarely left empty. I would have to try finding Mother's calendar book or journal to see if she mentioned any dates or men.
But when could I attempt such a daring maneuver? Thomas hardly left the house. As proud as Mother was of him, she was very cognizant and protective of his differences and didn't want to draw attention to herself or Thomas like that. Mother herself had few social engagements throughout the week and mostly stayed home to watch her golden child.
I finally decided I would take the risk and fake sick on Tuesday, grocery day, so I could stay home from school while she went shopping. All Thomas did all day was watch TV downstairs, so that should give me about an hour to look through her room for clues. I decided to tuck my head down, try to behave as best as I could to avoid their wrath, and wait for Tuesday.
That weekend limped along agonizingly slow. Thomas was in a fine mood and was constantly seeking out a reason to poke me, punch me, slap me… he'd laugh while calling me a piggy with his off-putting wide mouth. I tried to mostly stay in my room and it seemed like neither of them cared.
School on Monday was a relief, but my anxiety ramped up. The consequences would be dire if Mother caught on that I was faking sick to stay home. I didn't even want to imagine how off the leash she'd let my half-brother become in his punishment for that level of insubordination.
I stayed up all night, my stomach was in knots, but I was committed to my plan. Throughout the night, I screamed as hard as I could into my pillow. Screamed until my throat was raw and I could barely talk. It felt cathartic in a way. When it was close to school time, I put on my heaviest flannel pajamas and began doing jumping jacks until my face was flushed and my scalp was soaked with sweat.
Looking in the bathroom mirror before heading down to talk to Mother, I thought I looked pretty convincing, my skin was flushed and sweaty, my eyes had circles under them from lack of sleep, and my voice croaked like a frog.
Heading downstairs, Mother was already feeding Thomas breakfast. I hesitantly stepped into the kitchen and stood there awkwardly for a second, pawing with my pajamas to keep my nerves steady until she noticed my presence and looked up.
“Why aren't you dressed, Julianne?"
"I don't feel well. My throat hurts and my tummy hurts.” My voice graveled out more than I was expecting, I really had hurt my throat.
She strode over to me and placed a cool hand on my sweaty brow.
"You do feel warm. Take an aspirin from the medicine cabinet and go lay back down. I'll check on you later," with that she turned back and walked over to Thomas, who was frozen in place, glaring at me over a forkful of scrambled eggs. The sharp glint of malice in his beady eyes made me shiver before I shuffled out of the kitchen.
I laid in bed, trying my best to look miserable until I eventually heard the faint sound of the television playing in the den as Thomas settled in for his normal daytime routine and the garage door opened as Mother headed to the grocery store. I bounded out of bed and watched the car back out of our driveway and head up the street.
My heart began to pound as I tiptoed down the hall to Mother's bedroom, a place I rarely even caught a glimpse of, let alone entered. I very slowly opened the door, taking great care to not make any noise to alert Thomas downstairs that I was out of bed.
Creeping into the butter yellow room, I could feel my heartbeat pounding in my skull, this was the naughtiest thing I had ever done by far. I stepped onto the rug to help disguise my footsteps and slowly made my way past the brass bed and towards her desk. My hands shook as I opened the top drawer, I pawed through rapidly and found nothing. I checked the next drawer down and again found nothing of interest, just stationary and envelopes.
Finally, the bottom drawer was what I was looking for, a stack of journals from the past decade. I flipped through, trying to find entries relevant to when Daddy died and who Mother slept with afterwards.
I've never fully recovered from what I read.
July 6, 1968
Edgar died today. Car accident. I cannot believe this is real. My light, my life, my anchor... Dr. Benson gave me a sedative at the hospital and I feel so tired. So very, very tired. Why has my Lord forsaken me so?
July 9, 1968
I feel like I am in a very bad dream, I feel numb and disconnected. All the consolation and pity from everyone makes me feel sick. After the memorial, it took everything in me to not break dishes and to scream at everyone to get out of my house. Julianne was moping about crying and I wanted to throw her out, too.
If I hadn't seen my dear Edgar's body in the hospital and held his urn in my own hands, I wouldn't believe he was really gone. I still don't entirely believe it.
I have prayed to God every night asking him to show me why he took my husband from me and I have gotten no answer.
I skimmed over the next few months, as it was more or less similar sentiments repeated night after night. I finally got to an entry that caught my eye.
September 17, 1968
My battle with my faith has been fraught the past few months, but Hallelujah! I feel I can see the Lord again in all his glory and might, for he has given me a way to reconnect to my Edgar!
I was thinking about the night Julianne was born, right in this very home, it was a difficult birth and she struggled to breathe at first. Ingrid, my midwife, made a comment to me that if the baby had failed to wake up on her own, that Ingrid had ways to make sure she would have made it.
I remember asking if it was a medical methodology and she made it clear to me that in certain circumstances, it was a mystical property she used to bring the air of life into a struggling baby's lungs. She gently alluded to being a practicing member of the dark arts. At the time, I felt quite scandalized to have someone like that in my God fearing home. Now I see her as the answer to my prayers! My angel!
On a whim, I called her and asked if she still practiced such techniques. She hesitantly confirmed that she did. I asked, if she could turn breath into the lungs of a child without, could she turn breath into a child that did not exist? Could she magick into existence another child of my beloved Edgar? She told me she had to do some research and she'd be back in touch.
Ingrid just called back after a few hours and said there was a spell she found, but it was dangerous and might have unpleasant results. I said, yes, of course! I trust my Lord and I believe he sent this woman of blessed magick to me for this purpose.
She says we will have to do it soon, in a few days during the new moon. She has a potion to brew, but it is happening! Praise God!
September 23, 1968
The ceremony was last night, and Ingrid believes it was a success, but we will have to wait. It did not take long, only an hour or two. Ingrid lit my bedroom with many beeswax candles and she had me drink a thick and bitter tea that caused me to become quite relaxed and foggy.
From my inner thigh, she cut me and collected my blood in a chalice, with which she mixed quite a lot of Edgar's ashes and other ingredients which I could not glean from my supine position and groggy wits. Ingrid began to chant, calling upon a higher power, as I pleaded with my Lord to let this work. To give me any piece of my Edgar back. She came to the bed and worked the paste between my legs into my womanly chamber, which was very uncomfortable, but manageable with the numbing effects of the tea.
She continued to sit with me and chant, her hand placed over my womb, until she decided at which time it was complete. She left and I fell into a deep sleep. When I woke up this morning, I felt quite uncomfortable, my body ached and when I used the restroom, a yellow fluid like pus poured out of me, but no sign of any ashes or blood, which gives me hope it was absorbed into my womb.
November 3, 1968
Praise be to our Lord, Ingrid just confirmed for me that I am with child, I had been hoping so, I had not gotten my cycle in October, but I wasn't sure if that was because of the discharge like pus that was still coming. She told me that was common with this spell and a side effect that would stop after the baby came.
I feel like I am floating on air, for the first time since Edgar left, I feel-
I suddenly became very aware of the feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I had become too engrossed in what was written before me and I had lost track of my surroundings. Very slowly, I turned around and my heart began pounding again as I saw Thomas standing in the doorway holding his wooden spoon in one hand. How had I not heard him?
He pointed at me with his empty hand and screamed, just a pure guttural screech from somewhere deep inside his disgusting little body. He charged at me from across the room, his horrible feet thumping solidly along the rug. He began beating my legs ruthlessly with the spoon, causing my legs to buckle. I crashed down to my knees in front of him, and he began lashing at my face, pulling my hair with one hand while wailing away at my head with the spoon.
I had dropped the journal I was holding and was desperately trying to get a hand on the spoon or push him away. All I could hear was him screaming. My arms flailed and I reached around on Mother's desk and grabbed onto the first thing I found and sank it into Thomas’ neck.
The end of Mother's gold letter opener protruded under his jaw. He went silent and he looked at me with utter shock. He dropped the spoon and collapsed on the ground, clutching at his neck as his thick black blood oozed out from his wound, letting out a stupendous odor of rot that filled the room. He didn't really say anything or make any noise. He just twitched for a moment and I saw his eyes glaze over.
In shock, I stood over his little body for a moment and I watched as he seemed to mummify in just a few minutes, like an ash person from Pompeii dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Even his blood that looked like shiny oil a second ago became like potting soil on Mother's rug. Reaching out to touch his hand, it crumbled away like sand.
Panic ran through me like a rabbit caught in a snare. Not knowing what to do, I ran. I ran down the hall, changed my clothes, put an extra change of clothes in my backpack and the last doll Daddy had ever given me and I ran. Mother would absolutely never forgive me and I was genuinely afraid she would kill me in retaliation for taking her beloved Thomas away from her. Her precious gift from God. My feet flew over the pavement and took me away from that house.
I called my Aunt Judy from a payphone outside the five & dime, and told her Mother had kicked me out and asked if I could stay with her. She had always had a strained relationship with my mother and it didn't take much convincing that she had kicked out her “only” child. Only Mother, Ingrid, and I ever knew about Thomas.
She gave me a home and took care of me. She never beat me or humiliated me. Even with her love, I was far from okay. For years I would close my eyes and hear Thomas scream, then the sudden silence. I'd see him fumbling at his neck and turning to ash. But I would also remember all the ways he would hurt me and how bad he was becoming. I could never talk to anyone about it, especially not the silent relief I felt I refused to admit to myself. Over time, however, Thomas' screams became a whisper and his silence faded into dust in my mind.
I moved on with my life. I went to college and became a photojournalist, getting to travel the world and watch history unfold. By choice, I never married, but was quite blessed with many beautiful friendships for companionship over the decades. I found balance in my life and a sense of happiness, if not peace. I never could quite stomach mashed potatoes again, though, they always taste ashy to me.
Mother never made any attempts to reach out to me or find me, at least that I'm aware of. Ten years ago, I was contacted by a hospital and they said my mother had been admitted earlier after falling and was about to pass, so she must have kept some tabs on me to know my phone number for her emergency contacts. Apparently she had collapsed in the driveway and a neighbor called an ambulance. I got there and her only words to me were, “take care of him," as she placed a locket in my hand. I opened the locket, Jesus was on one side, Thomas on the other. I didn't say anything to her, just held her frail old hand with nicotine stained nails until she passed in the night. My mother was gone and I felt nothing except a vague sense of relief.
When I got to her house, it was like a time capsule. Other than a newer television, it was just like it was when I'd fled so many years ago. The smell of tobacco smoke hung like incense in the air. It felt oppressive, like a tomb.
I wandered the house in a bit of a daze. The one place I didn't want to go was upstairs. I didn't want to see my old room, or Thomas' room, or Mother's. Putting it off, I went to fix myself some supper, realizing I hadn't eaten in almost a day. I took a pause when I opened the fridge and saw a baby bottle on a shelf. Silently praying she had been babysitting for a neighbor, I fixed myself some toast with sardines and sat eating in the den watching TV. It had been almost forty years and it still felt rebellious not eating at the table and watching TV without permission.
My eyes grew heavy and I finally mustered up the gumption to head upstairs to go to bed. The stairs creaked in a familiar way under my feet and I was taken back to the feeling of dread hearing either Mother or Thomas climbing up. My old room was at the top of the stairs, I saw the door was nailed shut and had rambling quotes about Judas copied from the Bible in my mother's handwriting taped to the door. I sighed gently and turned from the door to head down the hallway, deciding Mother's room was probably the best place to sleep.
I passed by Thomas’ toy room and I heard a murmur from the room. I stopped, curiosity got the best of me and I entered. In Thomas' old toy room was a crib with joyful clown sheets. Dread swelled up inside me as I heard more murmurs and saw the sheets move. Approaching slowly, I peaked under the sheet and gasped.
Tucked inside was what looked like a baby gargoyle, gray and papery looking. Pus leaked out of its milky, bulbous eyes. I pulled back the blanket and saw it had no legs and its arms bent back, like wings on a bird. It was wearing just a cloth diaper, overflowing with tarry looking stool that took my breath away with its pungency, it smelled like Thomas’ blood, but somehow worse. My heart broke for this poor creature, Lord only knows how many years it has been in this crib suffering from its unholy existence.
So this is who Mother had wanted me to take care of…
Not knowing what else to do, I gently scooped him up. Like Thomas, he was shockingly heavy for how small his body was. Placing him on the changing table, I cleaned him and rewrapped his bottom in a clean diaper cloth. It was difficult, he fussed tremendously, crying and flopping around as much as his flipper-like arms would allow. I tried wiping off his oozing eyes and he snapped his mouth, which I saw was full of disturbingly square yellow teeth, trying to bite me. I carried him to the kitchen and rocked him while I heated up his bottle and he became furious with me, almost barking like a dog when my hand would get near his face.
He settled a bit as he fed, but he would still sometimes suddenly spit out the bottle and attempt to bite me. I laid him back in his crib, this abomination in a clown sheet, and I walked down the hall to Mother's room letting out a long sigh.
Combing through my mother's journals in the early hours of the morning, it looked like she tried the ceremony again shortly after Thomas died, but she either lacked Ingrid’s help or didn't have enough of my father's ashes left. Something went terribly wrong. She was vaguer than she had been about Thomas’ conception, but I suspect she had used some of Thomas' remains. The resulting birth she named Isaac.
Mother's journals told a sad tale of her and Isaac's suffering. She never mentioned me, but lamented the loss of Thomas and Dad relentlessly. She was hyper protective of Isaac, as that was all she had left. If her world had been small before, it became microscopic after he entered her life, requiring nearly constant care. According to Mother, he was blind and colicky, sometimes going years at a time without sleeping through the night. She had breast fed him for years, but she had to stop after he grew teeth and began biting her intentionally and feeding on her blood.
I spent a lot of time over the next few days pondering what to do. I had to get her estate in order, she had left me the house, in an obvious attempt to get me to continue caretaking for Isaac, but I didn't want it. I had my own cozy home an hour away from here, filled with happy memories and my possessions acquired traveling the world. Mother's home had a heavy energy I couldn't shake. Her and Thomas were both gone, but the memories of the scoldings and beatings hung in every corner, like cobwebs that would never sweep away.
So, I fed Isaac and kept him clean and tried to keep him company, although he seemed to hate me passionately. I took care of him, all the while thinking about what I was going to do. After a week, I felt resolute in what had to be done.
Gathering up all of Mother's journals in a tote, I made my way to Isaac and picked him up and carried everything to the living room.
The ancient logs in the fireplace meant for display ignited instantly. One by one, I fed the journals into the fire, burning away years of my mother's consuming sorrow. Isaac fussed and moaned next to me the entire time. When the last pages shimmered away into lacy ash, I took a throw pillow off the couch and gently cradled Isaac in my other arm. It didn't take long before he stopped struggling and I felt his little body relax after decades of suffering.
I gently wrapped up a bundle in a clown sheet and placed it in the fire. It burned furiously, like the paper in my mother's journals, and was soon gone. Nothing but ashes and embers.
“Don't worry, Mother,” I said purely for my own sake, "I took care of Isaac for you."
And finally, I felt at peace.

Hello everyone, I was hoping someone could have an explanation for something. I apologize ahead of time for sloppy formatting, I’m on mobile.
In December of 2022 I had an onset of random infections, a breast abscess (retroareola) in my left breast and an ear infection that spread to the mastoid bone of my right ear. —the infection of my eabone is still festering even after a partial mastoidectomy in July 2023, but that isn’t part of this question.—
Anyway, each time I had bloodwork done during these infections my WBC was completely normal. Even before being given antibiotics. The infection of my mastoid was so bad at one point I was hospitalized for four days. How can this be possible? Aren’t WBC supposed to be elevated during active infection?
I saw an immunologist who did a million blood tests and said they all came back normal, they could not figure out why I was in an “immunocompromised state” and are not even sure if that was the case for the infections.
About me:
31F, 5’2”, 208lbs
Medications:
-Motegrity 2mg -Zofran 8mg -Pantoprazole 40mg -Pristiq 100mg -Pregabalin 100mg -Probiotic -Vitamin D3 -Monthly B12 injections -Daily methylfolate/b12 tincture -Tylenol 1000-2000mg
Other dx conditions:
-Gastroparesis -Reflux esophagitis -Intestinal metaplasia -Chronic gastritis -Inflammatory bowel disease -Interstitial cystitis -Iron deficiency -B12 deficiency -PTSD -GAD
Other general symptoms I have that aren’t related: moderate to severe fatigue, trouble sleeping, trouble losing weight, and night sweats.
I also want to note that the breast abscess started after a lump in my armpit that has bothered me for years started getting more noticeable and aching randomly. I have asked every doctor I’ve seen about looking into it and all of them say it is just an “inflamed lymph node” and won’t do anything else about it. My mom even came with me to the doctor to explain how she had to have lymph nodes removed after a severe infection and that maybe that’s my issue and they refuse to listen. I now have lumps in my neck that I am getting an ultrasound on in two days.

﷽

​
Please note that this post is from my own understanding and ijtihad. Please correct me if I'm wrong.
​
There are three main words we need to differentiate between:

1. Khemar (خمار)
2. Jilbab (جلباب)
3. Hijab (حجاب)

​
_____________________________________
​

(1) Khemar:

Khemar or خمار is a piece of cloth that Arab women used to wear on their heads long before Islam but had their necks and chests shown.
Allah SWT said in {24 31}:
‎>﴿وَقُل لِّلْمُؤْمِنَاتِ يَغْضُضْنَ مِنْ أَبْصَارِهِنَّ وَيَحْفَظْنَ فُرُوجَهُنَّ وَلَا يُبْدِينَ زِينَتَهُنَّ إِلَّا مَا ظَهَرَ مِنْهَا ۖ وَلْيَضْرِبْنَ بِخُمُرِهِنَّ عَلَىٰ جُيُوبِهِنَّ ۖ وَلَا يُبْدِينَ زِينَتَهُنَّ إِلَّا لِبُعُولَتِهِنَّ أَوْ آبَائِهِنَّ أَوْ آبَاءِ بُعُولَتِهِنَّ أَوْ أَبْنَائِهِنَّ أَوْ أَبْنَاءِ بُعُولَتِهِنَّ أَوْ إِخْوَانِهِنَّ أَوْ بَنِي إِخْوَانِهِنَّ أَوْ بَنِي أَخَوَاتِهِنَّ أَوْ نِسَائِهِنَّ أَوْ مَا مَلَكَتْ أَيْمَانُهُنَّ أَوِ التَّابِعِينَ غَيْرِ أُولِي الْإِرْبَةِ مِنَ الرِّجَالِ أَوِ الطِّفْلِ الَّذِينَ لَمْ يَظْهَرُوا عَلَىٰ عَوْرَاتِ النِّسَاءِ ۖ وَلَا يَضْرِبْنَ بِأَرْجُلِهِنَّ لِيُعْلَمَ مَا يُخْفِينَ مِن زِينَتِهِنَّ ۚ وَتُوبُوا إِلَى اللَّهِ جَمِيعًا أَيُّهَ الْمُؤْمِنُونَ لَعَلَّكُمْ تُفْلِحُونَ﴾

‎>[النور: ٣١]
Translation:
﴾And tell the believing women to restrain their looks, and to guard their privates, and not display their beauty except what is apparent thereof, and to draw their coverings over their breasts, and not expose their beauty except to their husbands, their fathers, their husbands' fathers, their sons, their husbands' sons, their brothers, their brothers' sons, their sisters' sons, their women, what their right hands possess, their male attendants who have no sexual desires, or children who are not yet aware of the nakedness of women. And they should not strike their feet to draw attention to their hidden beauty. And repent to God, all of you believers, so that you may succeed.﴿
[Al-Noor: 31]

​
Allah said to use these “coverings” (Khemar) that they already use to cover their heads, to also cover their necks and chests with it. Hence, saying "and to draw their coverings over their breasts". The word “Khemar” is referred to as “coverings” in the translation. The Khemar is what we now consider to be a Hijab or a headscarf. It’s also a Fard (obligatory) since the Surah it is in started with the verse:
‎>﴿سُورَةٌ أَنزَلْنَاهَا وَفَرَضْنَاهَا وَأَنزَلْنَا فِيهَا آيَاتٍ بَيِّنَاتٍ لَّعَلَّكُمْ تَذَكَّرُونَ﴾

‎>[النور: ١]
Translation:
﴾A chapter that We have revealed, and made obligatory, and revealed in it clear Verses, that you may take heed.﴿
[Al-Noor: 1]

​
_____________________________________
​

(2) Jilbab:

Jilbab or جلباب in Arabic means a piece of cloth (long garment) that covers the entire body.
It was mentioned in {33 59}: ‎
‎>﴿يا أَيُّهَا النَّبِيُّ قُل لِأَزواجِكَ وَبَناتِكَ وَنِساءِ المُؤمِنينَ يُدنينَ عَلَيهِنَّ مِن جَلابيبِهِنَّ ذلِكَ أَدنى أَن يُعرَفنَ فَلا يُؤذَينَ وَكانَ اللَّهُ غَفورًا رَحيمًا﴾

‎>[الأحزاب: ٥٩]
Translation:
﴾O Prophet! Tell your wives, and your daughters, and the women of the believers, to lengthen their garments*. That is more proper, so they will be recognized and not harassed. God is Forgiving and Merciful*.﴿
[Al-Ahzab: 59]

​
The word “Jilbab” is referred to as “garments” in the translation. This verse was revealed to all Muslim women since Allah SWT said "Tell your wives, and your daughters, and the women of the believers"
​
The Jilbab as the foqaha’a said has to have two main features which are:
1- Doesn't show the curvature of the body
2- Is not transparent
​
_____________________________________
​

(3) Hijab

Hijab or حجاب is derived from a root word حجب that means "to block" or "to cover," not just the body, but anything in general. For example, I can say in Arabic that a shower curtain is a Hijab since it blocks what's inside the shower from the outside of the shower.
In {33 53} it was mentioned to the wives of the Prophet ﷺ as follows:
‎>﴿يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا لَا تَدْخُلُوا بُيُوتَ النَّبِيِّ إِلَّا أَن يُؤْذَنَ لَكُمْ إِلَىٰ طَعَامٍ غَيْرَ نَاظِرِينَ إِنَاهُ وَلَٰكِنْ إِذَا دُعِيتُمْ فَادْخُلُوا فَإِذَا طَعِمْتُمْ فَانتَشِرُوا وَلَا مُسْتَأْنِسِينَ لِحَدِيثٍ ۚ إِنَّ ذَٰلِكُمْ كَانَ يُؤْذِي النَّبِيَّ فَيَسْتَحْيِي مِنكُمْ ۖ وَاللَّهُ لَا يَسْتَحْيِي مِنَ الْحَقِّ ۚ وَإِذَا سَأَلْتُمُوهُنَّ مَتَاعًا فَاسْأَلُوهُنَّ مِن وَرَاءِ حِجَابٍ ۚ ذَٰلِكُمْ أَطْهَرُ لِقُلُوبِكُمْ وَقُلُوبِهِنَّ ۚ وَمَا كَانَ لَكُمْ أَن تُؤْذُوا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ وَلَا أَن تَنكِحُوا أَزْوَاجَهُ مِن بَعْدِهِ أَبَدًا ۚ إِنَّ ذَٰلِكُمْ كَانَ عِندَ اللَّهِ عَظِيمًا﴾

‎>[الأحزاب: ٥٣]
Translation:
﴾O you who believe! Do not enter the homes of the Prophet, unless you are given permission to come for a meal; and do not wait for its preparation. And when you are invited, go in. And when you have eaten, disperse, without lingering for conversation. This irritates the Prophet, and he shies away from you, but God does not shy away from the truth. And when you ask his wives for something, ask them from behind a screen*; that is purer for your hearts and their hearts. You must never offend the Messenger of God, nor must you ever marry his wives after him, for that would be an enormity with God.﴿*
[Al-Ahzab: 53]

​
The word "hijab" here translates as "a screen," or something that completely separates the Prophet's wives from the men. Meaning they spoke to the Sahaba, or men, from behind a screen (similar to a door), and is unique to the Prophet's ﷺ wives when they were at home. However, when they left the house, they wore a covering which we now call the "Niqab".
​
_____________________________________
​
In conclusion, we have the Khemar which is what we now call a “hijab” or a headscarf that covers the hair, neck, and chest. We have the Jilbab which is a long garment that is not transparent nor shows the curves of the body. And the Hijab which is a thing that blocks the view between two things / people (men and the Prophet ﷺ wives in this case). So, the Hijab in its Quranic meaning is only for the Prophet ﷺ wives, but the Khemar and Jelbab are for all women believers (which we now call hijab or headscarf).
​
Allah knows best.

I'm interested in having a breast reduction. I've also been losing weight but I'm still over the minimum BMI index to have a tummy tuck done. I'm losing weight and I'm down about 20 lb. But I have at least 50 more to go. Having a breast reduction would help back and neck pain, but I'm wondering if it would just be better to have both surgeries done at once to minimize recovery times and not have to go under anesthesia twice. Has anybody done one and then the other at a later date? Would you do it again? Or would you do one at a time? Or for those who have done both at the same time, do you wish you had done them one at a time?

The big problem I'm having is - to cite a popular cleaveage post around here, I have "butt cleavage" in a tank top. A lot of high impact bras seem to be encapsulation bras that end up just sitting on the breast tissue in the center. I've also had a fair amount of issues with racerbacks digging in and hurting at the neck, unfortunately, and I'm not sure what causes it. Some less stretchy bands can also cause pain at times (enell and shefit have both had this problem for me).
The calculator says 34G UK but I think I may need a cup size down to get the compression I'm looking for. I typically wear binders (transmasc) but I really need a good high impact workout solution. Wireless is preferred but I can be flexible so long as it's not too stiff and doesn't go up high between breasts. Unfortunately most underwires I've found, the underwire is wider than the space between my breasts and it just doesn't work in most cuts.

22F, 183 Ibs, 5’4. No health issues.
I have always dealt with an excess amount of hair on my body. Hairy legs, hairy armpits, etc. But the thing that bothers me the most, is hair on my face. It’s not those extreme cases where it becomes a beard or anything. However, I get dark, unwanted hairs on my chin, face and neck. It bothers me that I have to shave my face and that the hairs come back that same week! I also sometimes get ingrowns on my neck that causes bumps. The ingrowns have improved and I rarely get them now. But I still have to pluck or use my single blade razor to feel comfortable in my skin. I have had my blood tested for imbalanced hormones and my hormones are balanced. Therefore, I have not been diagnosed with PCOS. I did have a pediatrician a couple years ago (this wasn’t my primary pediatric doctor) examine me and wrote on her notes that I have hirsutism but never really informed me or discussed anything further about it. My periods are regular as well so that’s another reason why I don’t think I have PCOS.
Could this just be a hereditary thing? What could be a reason why I have an excess amount of hair on my face?

I’m a 2nd time EPer and I feel like a fool. I pushed my MOTN pump back too far too fast because I’m trying to drop it, and yesterday I woke up to pump very engorged and the side of my right breast was extra hard and painful. After pumping it was still hard around the top and side and very tender in spots; the pain extends almost to my armpit. I’ve been treating it like a clogged duct(s) and doing all I can to release it since it started - ice, massage, ibuprofen, sunflower lecithin, sticking to my pumping schedule, manual pump - but I can’t tell if the clog is gone and now it’s just still sore?
Worse, my output on that side has been way down today, I’m talking less than half. Is that normal? Will it bounce back? I’m not getting engorged as if milk is stuck in there, there’s just hardness that won’t go away. The soreness isn’t as bad today as yesterday. There are some red spots but I’m not sure if that’s just from massaging.
I’m an oversupplier so I’m still pumping enough for baby on the other side, but that isn’t keeping me from mildly freaking out. I’ve never had a clogged duct before.
Please help!

I’m a 2nd time EPer and I feel like a fool. I pushed my MOTN pump back too far too fast because I’m trying to drop it, and yesterday I woke up to pump very engorged and the side of my right breast was extra hard and painful. After pumping it was still hard around the top and side and very tender in spots; the pain extends almost to my armpit. I’ve been treating it like a clogged duct(s) and doing all I can to release it since it started - ice, massage, ibuprofen, sunflower lecithin, sticking to my pumping schedule, manual pump - but I can’t tell if the clog is gone and now it’s just still sore?
Worse, my output on that side has been way down today, I’m talking less than half. Is that normal? Will it bounce back? I’m not getting engorged as if milk is stuck in there, there’s just hardness that won’t go away. The soreness isn’t as bad today as yesterday. There are some red spots but I’m not sure if that’s just from massaging.
I’m an oversupplier so I’m still pumping enough for baby on the other side, but that isn’t keeping me from mildly freaking out. I’ve never had a clogged duct before.
Please help!

Hello! Please, whoever has the patience to read would help me enormously, as I have been suffering for 7 months. Sorry for bad english!!! I'm only 18 years old, I don't want my life to end or be like this. I had my first panic attacks around October 2023. I didn't know how they felt, I had them from calcium drops but they manifested differently. I went to the psychiatrist where I received Serlift 0.5 mg per day, but after 5 weeks I abandoned them because I could hardly tolerate them, I had nausea, constantly dilated pupils, imbalance, etc. On top of that, I also had swallowing difficulties which were quite rare but became more and more frequent. In December, I had already reached the point where I could no longer swallow solid food, and in January (2024) I started not being able to feed myself even with mashed things, purees, etc. I was eating somewhere around 2-3 teaspoons of soup per hour, somewhere around 2 bowls of clear soup. I went to a gastroenterologist where they did a digestive endoscopy, without a biopsy, and there was a wound caused by acid on the esophagus at the bottom, so their diagnosis was reflux + a hiatal hernia. I received treatment with Nexium (one pill in the morning) but I did not feel any improvement. At the same time, I went to the ENT because I felt like I couldn't breathe and they said that I have hypertrophic chronic rhinitis, which doesn't go away, so if it continues like this I will have to have laser surgery, it's quite an easy operation and minimally invasive, but they are worried back the nasal turbinates. The difficulty in swallowing decreased for a while, but it appeared again, stronger that I could not even swallow saliva and water without drowning. I then went to the doctor in Cluj where they redid my endoscopy and manometry. The manometry came out normal, but at the endoscopy, this time with a biopsy, I had reflux esophagitis. I received nexium treatment in the morning and in the evening and in addition to that I also did acupuncture and everything is almost back to normal, I still have a difficulty with bakery products and with seeds, meat. Rather, the problem remained that I feel how it slowly flows down my throat, but it's ok. During the investigations I went to the lungs and the heart. They discovered adult asthma in my lungs (I didn't have asthma as a child but I had many pneumonias) and since then I received treatment with foster and an antihistamine in the evening (Aerius). I felt that I was breathing hard (that I was inhaling hard), but I quickly understood that this is also anxiety, because many times my oxygenation was good. I haven't given up smoking since I have asthma, I've reduced it but now I want to quit because I feel that it's hard to EXPIRE the air outside, or I feel that when I want to inhale, I exhale. Or when I exhale deeply forcefully (because I have to force myself) I feel a pressing pain like a punch between the chest and the neck but rather towards the neck. The therapist said that these are NOT signs of anxiety, but the doctor I go to knows my problems with anxiety and often leaves it to her. I went to the heart because I had low blood pressure, but I also had anemia and that was also a cause (I have a very white face and palms). He said it could be a sinus tachycardia. But more recently, I feel as if my left breast is trembling or aching. The problem with breathing worries me the most, I'm afraid that there might be some hidden pneumonia. I had lung x-rays almost 2 months ago, but then I did NOT have those symptoms. I'm not saying that it's not possible for something to have appeared in such a short time? I keep thinking why do I have these moods? The therapist says that she does NOT think it's anxiety because even in the neurofeedbeek device (the one that measures the stress delta wave) I have low waves after the therapy. I don't want to feel like this anymore, I want to live my life because I don't have any worries or stress. If this time too everything looks good on x-rays and ultrasounds, what tests should I do? What lack of minerals/vitamins or what deficiency can cause such ugly conditions? Note: I think I know how to explain batter. I feel like i keep the CO2 in my lung instead of letting it go out.

Long time lurker! Like many of you, I’ve been dreaming of a breast reduction since they first came in! My chest has always been a source of insecurity and unwanted attention since I was in middle school. I’m now 31 and sick of having the extra weight on my chest. I’m tired of the neck pain, spending $$$ on bras and swimwear, searching high and low for dresses/clothing to fit my bust…I think im measuring at a 36I but I truly don’t know, I probably haven’t worn a real bra in two years.
I’m at a good place in life where opting for a reduction is tangible. I don’t want kids. I have a decent job with health insurance —Kaiser SoCal . I finally decided to discuss surgery with my PCP and she referred me to plastic surgery. I attended the seminar, and a week later the scheduling office called to schedule a phone consultation. Had the consult today and the surgeon is pushing for weight loss first. I’m 5’4 and weigh 193lbs. I’m technically just under the 34 bmi requirement. But dr said it would be ideal to lose 20lbs.
My weight has gone up in the last 5 years due to a thyroid issue that is now under control. But damn!! I feel like I got my hopes up and now a reduction could be a while away. I still requested to have an in person consultation with the surgeon and will attempt to state my case. Even when I did weigh 170lbs I was still a 34j. I feel so desperate to have these things sized down and it’s a bummer to hear I might have to wait even longer.
Also thinking I will schedule another consultation with a different surgeon for a second opinion.
If anyone has any advice or is feeling just as disillusioned as myself and wants to commiserate 😭

Noticed this “boil” to the front of left armpit (not breast) that appeared over the weekend but today has become very red and painful to touch. Had one on right side about a month ago that went away on its own. Feels like a painful inflamed pimple-can anyone tell me something to relieve my anxiety that I’m dying? Thank you