Boobs, Bits, and All the Beautiful Chaos We’re Supposed to Whisper About!

🤝 When Embarrassment Meets Reality

I can actually feel some of the guys squirming a little reading this,
thinking they were coming here for a cheeky chat about boobs and getting ambushed into a full body-and-mind conversation.
Well... it’s not an outright lie.
But it was a solid attention-grabber.

And honestly? It mirrors how life threw me straight into it, too.

🛁 Thrown Into the Deep End (Literally)

When I first started in care work, I had to help someone get ready for bed.
I was mortified.

Second job?
Assist someone into the bath, and I’m not proud to say I very nearly threw up in my own mouth from sheer awkwardness.

But you know what?
The person I was helping? Completely at ease.
And it hit me: Why am I embarrassed?

Someone has to help.
And suddenly, a whole new world of respect cracked open,
not just for the people receiving care, but for every carer and support worker out there doing it, daily, without medals or standing ovations.

(Shocker: carers and support staff can’t even strike for fair pay, blackmailed by minimum wage because they/we actually love our jobs and care.)

You don’t really get it until you’re thrown into that world.
And thrown I was. Hard.

🖤 Real Moments That Changed Me

• Helping a grown man dress when he was too tired to lift his arms, and that feeling when he called for me by name a few days later 🫶

• Holding a woman’s hand while she shook through a smear test, terrified by the process, trusting me to be there.

• Laughing with someone about their third rogue skin tag, because what else can you do but book the bloody appointment and laugh?

• Sitting on the floor of a hospital bathroom with a teenager who thought needing help made him weak, plot twist: it didn’t.
  (Five years later, he works at a homeless charity, helping others survive.)

Somewhere along the line, all the embarrassment fell away.
Because real care doesn’t leave space for shame.

And somewhere along the line, I realized:
This is how we should all be talking to each other.

Factually. Honestly. Sometimes bluntly. Without shame.

Now?
I can discuss the Bristol Stool Chart over dinner without blinking. (IYKYK.)
I’ve sat beside people crying over stuff they were too scared to say out loud anywhere else.
And somewhere along the line, I stopped thinking it was weird.

Until today, when I read my friend’s brilliant post about PMT (shameless re-stack coming after this goes live), and realized, maybe for a lot of people, this kind of honest body talk still feels radical.

Maybe we do still need to shout about it.

💸 The Ugly Truth About Care Work (And Why I'm Still Here)

I didn’t realize this was what went on behind the scenes in care and support work.
I’ll do a longer post at some point because there’s tons more behind-the-scenes stuff that needs saying.

I didn’t realize I would be so important to other people, people outside my own family.
That’s what makes it special.

Through the crises.
Through the awkward talks about wobbly bits.
Through the quiet moments when someone trusts you with their fear.

And honestly?
That’s enough.

That’s the dream.
Keep caring.
Keep shouting.
Keep showing up.

🧡 Why We Need to Talk (Loudly)

Because if we don't talk about bodies, the leaking, the aching, the weird bruises, the terrifying 1am Google searches,
we just end up feeling alone in it.

Ashamed.
Isolated.
Embarrassed over things that are literally just part of being alive.

Silence makes you think you’re the only one googling:

“Can stress make your nipple fall off?”
(It can't. I checked.)

Silence makes people delay getting lumps checked.
Silence kills conversations that might actually save lives.

Talking doesn’t just normalize it.
Talking gives permission.
Permission to be messy. To ask for help. To survive.

🍼 Teach the Next Ones Better

And if you’ve got little ones?

Start the conversations early.

Teach them that every body is different.
Teach them that boobs, bits, brains, and big feelings aren’t shameful.

Talk about the weird stuff. The messy stuff. The "is this normal?" stuff.

Because if you’re lucky, someday you'll have an adult child who comes to you first and says:

“Hey... is this normal?”

And that?
That’s a bigger win than any clean report card.

📋 So Here’s Your To-Do List (Because We’re All Adults Here)

• Check your boobs.

• Check your bits.

• Check your mystery moles, rogue hairs, weird aches, and stubborn silences.

• Text someone you love and remind them their body isn’t shameful, it’s a bloody miracle.

• Offer to help check their bits too (permission first, bonus points for enthusiasm)

🔥 Final Thought

Your body isn’t awkward.
Your mind isn’t broken.
You're not weird because you leak, rage, ache, spiral, or cry at an insurance advert.

You’re wild.
You’re human.
You’re still standing.

And that?
That deserves to be shouted about, not whispered.

🧡🖤🧡