A Dear John Letter To My Uterus

Dear My Recently Ripped Out Uterus,

I have a box of your stuff. Pads, tampons, a few random boxes of Cyclen you left here. I know it’s awkward, but it’s probably best if you’d come and pick it up so I can move on.

The month since you and your posse “the ovaries” have been gone has been a bit of a roller coaster. I want you to know I’m doing well though. Super well. I don’t even think about you (except every day all the time) and I totally don’t cry in public a lot as I attempt to level out and to fill the void you’ve left. To that end, I should probably tell you that I have someone new in my life. In fact, I’m playing the field. I’m seeing this cute little red head named Premarin-Estrogen. She’s great. Maybe a little dramatic, but nothing I can’t handle. Then there’s this silver fox named Teva-Progesterone. What a stabilizing force he’s been in my life. We hang out every morning over coffee and make sure the day is going to go as planned. Yep. I’m on top of the world here without you.
…
I mean, sure, sometimes I spiral a bit (usually when the Always commercial comes on. You know the one, white pants blue liquid?) I end up asking myself if I’m as much of a woman as I was before I evicted you. Of course I know it’s bullshit, but between your years of bad behaviour and society’s staunch biological imperatives, I’m still pretty messed up, you know? But that’s totally…