TRAUMA, TITTIES & TBRs —The Body That Wouldn’t Behave
- Elle | Queen of Smut 💋
- Jun 13
- 3 min read
Episode 2
The Body That Wouldn’t Behave: PCOS, Chin Hairs & AuDHD Mayhem
The Creator gave me the deluxe package with zero instructions.
DEAR SINNERS of the Library of Sin,
You ever feel like your body came with a user manual written in another language?
Same.
This next drawer isn't one I slammed shut in a moment of trauma—it’s one that kept creaking open, day after day, like a haunted cabinet filled with hormonal chaos, unspoken grief, and a whole lot of "WTF is happening to me?"
Because when the world is built for smooth skin, fertile wombs, and neurotypical minds, what happens when you’re the glitch in the system? The Body That Wouldn’t Behave.
🔮The PCOS Diagnosis That Didn’t Fix Anything
It took years to get diagnosed. Years of doctors brushing me off, years of “you’re probably just stressed” and “if you just lost some weight...”
One even said, “Lose 20 pounds and you’ll get pregnant right away.”
Right. As if my ovaries were hiding behind a cheeseburger.
Finally, one doctor actually listened and said, “Let’s test for PCOS.”
That was the first time I felt seen.
Not believed. Not helped.
Just... seen.
PCOS is like being gaslit by your own body.
Painful periods.
Or no periods.
Weight gain you can’t explain.
Mood swings that make you question your own sanity.
And that beautiful bonus feature: a face full of hair you never asked for.
It’s a periodical horror film with no credits, just bloating and rage.
🫃 Infertility in a World Obsessed with Fertility
My body didn’t just betray me by refusing to function—it betrayed my dreams.
I was married.
We tried everything.
He already had a child.
And I wanted to give him one, too. Just one.
We tried IUI.
IVF.
And each time, I lost them.
I’m crying as I write this.
Because it wasn’t just my body that failed—it felt like I failed him.
Everyone around me said, “Try harder.”
“Just relax.”
“Just lose weight.”
But how do you explain to people that you’re grieving babies that never had names?
That you’re mourning something your body never even gave you a chance to hold?
I never made peace with my infertility.
I had a hysterectomy four years ago.
Because living in pain every day wasn’t living anymore, and I didn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want sex. I didn’t want to be seen.
It almost killed my marriage.
🧔♀️ Hirsutism – aka The Bearded Femme Files
Imagine trying to feel sexy while shaving your chin like your husband shaves his.
Imagine trying to feel feminine when your hormones think you’re a 1950s lumberjack.
Imagine trying not to scream when you find a wiry hair on your nipple and wonder if Zeus cursed your bloodline.
The shame? Was unbearable.
The routines? Exhausting.
The stubble? Instant dysphoria.
But somewhere along the way… I stopped caring.
Sometimes I shave. Sometimes I braid. Sometimes I joke that I’m the bearded Queen of Sin and just go with it.
Because beauty isn't defined by smooth skin.
And my femininity doesn’t require permission.
🌀 The AuDHD Layer Cake
Now throw AuDHD on top of all that.
Sensory overload.
Executive dysfunction.
Hyperfixations and meltdowns in the same hour.
I wasn’t just battling my body—I was battling a brain on fire.
Masking every day just to “fit in.”
And yet, still being misunderstood—even by the people who claimed to love me.
Every doctor visit, every medical brush-off, every social interaction where I was “too much” or “not enough”—it all came back to the same truth:
They didn’t see me.
👑 Final Thoughts from the Throne
This body?
This brain?
This soul?
Still f*cking standing.
Do I love every part of myself? No.
But I own every scar, every stray chin hair, every missed diagnosis, every hormone-fueled breakdown.
Even when the crown slips—I wear it with pride.
Stay tuned for next time, my sinners.
We’re talking about the guy I met on MySpace. The guy who made me go on adventures with him. The guy who stayed and never left.
Until then,
With rage, hormones, and dark glitter in all the wrong places,
Elle, The Queen of Smut
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