“Women” will do a lot of things to get attention, the only means by which to set oneself apart in this competitive world of attraction called, who can hold a “man’s” gaze the longest? Or rather, who can hold one of the eyes in a “man’s” gaze the longest? In order to achieve this, some “women” will go to extremely great lengths–ones that are usually highly embarrassing–to catch a “man’s” notice via a self-made spotlight. Particularly if they have very little else to go on for conventional means of garnering consideration. The most prime and overt example of this damsel in distress act (apart from Tai in Clueless) is Lena Dunham, whose latest hospital tale comes on the heels of getting a hysterectomy to treat her much publicized endometriosis. Unlike her first foray into touting her condition after the Met Gala in 2017, this time around Dunham is getting more involved with her display.
Eager to “discuss” (a.k.a. bloviate) to promote awareness of, as far as anyone can tell, herself, Dunham is now spreading misinformation about the value of a hysterectomy as a treatment option for endometriosis, when, in fact, removal of the entire uterus is neither a go-to or a necessity for excising the tissue affected. But Dunham was inclined to see it as a necessity for facilitating an essay she wrote for Vogue (which, by the way, should be no one’s source for medical advice unless seeking free ways to blackout from looking at how expensive couture is). In it, she discusses ex-boyfriend Jack Antonoff, who you might not remember as the lead singer of fun., stating in a tone that only scratches the surface of her self-imposed martyrdom, “My beautiful partner, who has seen me through so much pain with compassion and care, has to be away for work, and I can feel us growing slowly apart, since life is so determined to display its full complexity right now. I am surly and distant. I offer nothing.” Just this melodramatic essay and a burgeoning bank account to keep boys around when the hospital selfies won’t.
To add to the bathetic framing of it all (when, as stated, a hysterectomy is not a cure for this condition so much as a Russian roulette, “Let’s see if this works” option for someone too, pardon the pun, pussy to endure the pain that a poor person with this condition most assuredly would), Dunham bemoans her longtime desire to be a mother. On this note, she resigns herself by the end, remarking, “Adoption is a thrilling truth I’ll pursue with all my might. But I wanted that stomach. I wanted to know what nine months of complete togetherness could feel like. I was meant for the job, but I didn’t pass the interview.” Ah, but she certainly passed the interview for the job of how to get attention for going through a commonplace medical procedure.
Dunham isn’t just missing a clit now, she’s missing a uterus. And for what? To encourage other people who can’t afford the same level of care to go out getting hysterectomies willy nilly?
Missing A Clit 