POPSUGAR Health

Chloe Kim Wishes Her ADHD Diagnosis Came Sooner: “It Doesn't Have to Be So Hard”

Chloe Kim — Mon, 02 Nov 2026 09:30:03 -0800

It makes sense that I'm an athlete. As a child, I was always going to the hospital for jumping too high or hurting myself or breaking my arm. When I started snowboarding, all of that energy got funneled into my sport, which is a symptom of ADHD I didn't know about. You can hyperfixate on one thing, and for me, that was snowboarding.

Snowboarding became my life. But when I wasn't snowboarding, I didn't know how to manage. I forgot appointments and plans I made with friends. I didn't feel like myself. Getting diagnosed and discovering that everything had an explanation was the most refreshing, freeing feeling.

As an athlete, we know when something's wrong with our bodies. My knee hurts, or my back hurts, or I'm bleeding - it's so obvious. But when it comes to mental health, it isn't. You don't know what you're working with sometimes. That was a big part of my ADHD journey. I was so unaware of what I was experiencing because it felt understandable in a lot of ways; I am very busy. I have a lot of things I need to do. Of course I'm going to be overwhelmed, of course I'm going to be exhausted. But surprise, surprise, there's a world where that doesn't have to be the case.

I found success during my formative years, so I really relied on the opinions of the adults in my life. In moments when I was starting to feel overwhelmed, I was being told that I needed to go to therapy and that there was something wrong with me and that I needed help - but I wasn't being told that I should go see a psychiatrist.

"I thought I was just lazy."

Now, based on my journey, it's important for me to shift the narrative and start spreading awareness on what [ADHD can] look like. I didn't think I had ADHD because I wasn't hyperactive. I thought I was just lazy. I was like, "I'm laying in bed all the time when I'm not snowboarding. There's no way I have this." But I did - it just looked different for me.

I'm able to process many things at once, which led to my demise in a lot of ways. But I'm also able to look at things from different perspectives. I appreciate how different my mind is, and I think that's what has allowed me to find success in my sport. I'm able to watch videos of myself snowboarding and say, "OK, I think I would've landed this if my arm was a little more back." I'm my best and worst critic.

I'm still going to be exhausted at times, but it doesn't have to be so hard. I wish I had gotten diagnosed sooner and done a better job of checking in with myself. But also, how could I have known? That's why I'm so excited to work with Supernus Pharmaceuticals on the Ms. Represented campaign, because I think that ADHD is truly misrepresented. Now, I feel like I have the rest of my life back.

ADHD is a spectrum. People experience it completely differently, and just because your experience doesn't align with someone else's, doesn't mean that it's a "you" problem. You're not lazy . . . some of us just need a little extra love and attention.

- As told to Chandler Plante

Chandler Plante (she/her) is a staff writer and PS Fit Producer. She has over six years of industry experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine, a social media manager for Millie magazine, and a contributor for Bustle Digital Group. She has a degree in magazine journalism from Syracuse University and is based in Los Angeles.

I Have a Chronic Illness - but I Don't Want to Be Inspirational

Lindsay Barnes — Wed, 28 Oct 2026 10:20:08 -0700

When I was diagnosed with Crohn's disease in my early 20s, I had no idea what it was; I just knew something was wrong. I was going to the bathroom 10 to 15 times a day, and I couldn't control what was happening to my body. My doctor explained that my colon had severely deteriorated and I was dealing with inflammation, blockages, and a long list of potential complications I'd never considered.

At an age when most people are figuring out who they are and what they want out of life, I was suddenly trying to understand a disease I'd never heard of and what it meant for my future.

Before my diagnosis, I was a dancer. I loved performing, being in the spotlight, and expressing myself through the arts. But Crohn's changed how I felt about being seen. I was dealing with something deeply personal and uncomfortable, and I didn't know how to talk about it. Let's be honest: we grow up with all these jokes about how women don't poop. As a "Sex and the City" fan, I always think about the episode where Carrie makes a big deal about finally using the bathroom at Big's apartment. It's funny, but it also reinforces the idea that something as normal as going to the bathroom is embarrassing, especially for women. Now imagine being in your 20s and going more than a dozen times a day. You're scared about your health, but you're also embarrassed by something society has taught you to keep private.

For years, I only told my family and a few close friends about my diagnosis. I didn't want Crohn's to define me or become the first thing people knew about me. Now, at 35, I still don't. But keeping my diagnosis private isn't just about wanting a life beyond my illness - it's also about not wanting to turn my experience into a lesson for other people.

We live in a culture that loves a comeback story. Someone receives a difficult diagnosis, faces unimaginable challenges, and emerges stronger, wiser, and ready to inspire the world. I truly respect those stories and genuinely admire the people who share their experiences to help others feel less alone. But what if I don't feel brave? What if I'm tired of talking about my diagnosis, or I don't want to find a silver lining in something that has made my life harder?

The reality is that a chronic illness affects far more than your physical health. Fifteen years after my diagnosis, I've seen how Crohn's touches parts of my life that have nothing to do with the disease itself. Dating, for example, is already hard, and having a chronic illness adds another layer. There's figuring out when to tell someone, wondering how they'll react, and trying to enjoy a date when your body suddenly decides it has other plans. It's difficult to feel spontaneous when you've spent years knowing you might need a bathroom at any moment or have to cancel plans unexpectedly. Living with a chronic illness means constantly adjusting to your body, even when you're simply trying to enjoy the everyday experiences that make up a life. I navigate that uncertainty as best as I can, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Maybe that's part of why I have complicated feelings about being perceived as an inspiration because I live with a chronic illness. I know people mean it as a compliment when they call me "strong," and I really do appreciate the kindness behind it, but I didn't choose this experience, and I don't always feel strong. Sometimes, I'm frustrated or embarrassed. Sometimes, I'm tired of having to think about where the nearest bathroom is. And sometimes, I don't want to explain what Crohn's has taught me. I just wish I didn't have to deal with it. Those feelings don't erase how far I've come; they're just part of what living with a chronic illness looks like, too.

Now don't get me wrong: Crohn's disease has certainly taught me a lot about myself and my body. But it will always be just one part of my story. I'm Lindsay: a loving, caring daughter, sister, and friend, with interests, relationships, goals, and a life beyond my diagnosis. Some things I may choose to share, while others I may want to keep private. Either way, I want to give myself the space to decide what feels right for me, in my own time.

My illness has changed me in many ways, and while some of those changes may bring growth, others are difficult. I can appreciate the good in my life while still making room for the things I struggle with, and sometimes, getting through a hard day is enough. I'm learning that my experience can be meaningful in its own way, even when I don't have the words to explain or a lesson to take from it.

If there's one thing I hope others living with chronic illness take away from my experience, it's that we each get to decide what our story looks like. For some, sharing their journey can be empowering and inspirational, while also helping people in similar situations feel less alone. For others, like me, keeping certain aspects of life private feels more natural. There's no right way to navigate life with chronic illness, and I'm giving myself the grace to do it in whatever way feels right for me.

- As told to Andi Breitowich

Andi Breitowich is a Chicago-based freelance writer and graduate from Emory University and Northwestern University's Medill School of Journalism. Her work has appeared in PS, Women's Health, Cosmopolitan, and elsewhere.

The Emotional Rollercoaster of "Scanxiety"

Kristine Thomason — Fri, 23 Oct 2026 15:25:02 -0700

When Ali Heitz arrived at the hospital for her check-up scan, exactly one year after her breast cancer diagnosis, she thought she was prepared. Leading up to this day, she was actually excited: after completing many months of treatment, she felt eager to check this scan off her to-do list, and hopefully get the call confirming she was cancer-free. But when it was finally time for her appointment, Heitz felt overcome with nerves as she entered the MRI machine.

"It's almost like you're transported back to that week you were diagnosed, and you forget you've gone through it all already," she tells Popsugar. "You go through [the feelings] all over again."

What Heitz experienced is a sensation known as "scanxiety," a term that was coined in 2011. Specifically, it refers to the "distress and/or anxiety occurring before, during, and after cancer-related imaging/scans," according to the peer-reviewed journal Cancers. For breast cancer patients, in particular, those scans can include mammograms, ultrasounds, and MRIs, among others - they're required throughout treatment, and then annually for a number of years following remission.

Although there's no exact data to quantify just how many individuals get scanxiety, based on information we gleaned from experts, it seems like a pretty prolific experience. PS chatted with breast cancer patients and medical professionals to get a better sense of what scanxiety really means, and how to manage stress during these crucial checks.

Experts Featured in This Article

Chloe Carmichael, PhD, is a clinical psychologist, speaker, and the author of "Nervous Energy: Harness the Power of Your Anxiety."

Irene Morae Kang, MD, is the medical director of women's health medical oncology at City of Hope.

What Does Scanxiety Feel Like?

Scanxiety can manifest in different ways for different individuals, and may be caused by various underlying reasons. However, it primarily boils down to fear - either of the unknown or the all-too-well known. For some, it might be the unpleasantness of the scan appointment itself that sparks stress, says clinical psychologist Chloe Carmichael, PhD.

Certain scans "are hard to do, even if there's not an emotional component," Irene Morae Kang, MD, medical director of women's health medical oncology at City of Hope, says. Take MRI scans, for instance, where you have to lay still in small, cramped quarters for an hour or more. "This can be difficult for someone with even baseline claustrophobia."

For Sheree Santos, a two-time breast cancer survivor and City of Hope patient, this sentiment certainly rings true. "During the scan, I do get nervous, because the scans are uncomfortable," she says. "I have high blood pressure and what they call, "white coat syndrome," which means I get anxious being around doctors."

In other instances, however, the scans might incite feelings of deep underlying dread about cancer. If you experience anxiety during a preventative check, perhaps you have a family member who went through a cancer journey, and this appointment is bringing up difficult memories, says Dr. Carmichael. For others, the anxiety can be downright debilitating and prevent you from scheduling the necessary check-ups to begin with.

What's more, "since the purpose of these scans is to check if you're OK, in the back of your mind, you know the reason they're checking is because you might not be," Dr. Kang says. "Sometimes that's a fleeting thought, or it can really be pervasive and quite intrusive."

And if you've already been diagnosed and completed treatment, follow-up checks can be quite triggering as well. "I know what I would have to go through again, and I know I could do it again. But I also know exactly what it entails, and it's damn hard," says Heitz. "I don't think people always realize the emotional trauma that comes along with it. It takes time to heal, and everyone processes it differently."

Heitz says this kind of experience can lead you to feel betrayed by your own body. "It can be hard to trust your body will keep the cancer out," she says.

Dr. Kang also notes that, for breast cancer survivors, "the ante is much higher for their risk of recurrence," which means they might get scans more frequently than people with other types of cancer, she says. For instance, survivors with stage four breast cancer, or people living with more advanced breast cancer, will get scans every three months to check if their cancer is still under control on the current treatment. "So it can be very frequent and very scary, either wondering if you're going to experience recurrence, or worse, if your cancer is progressing," she says.

How Can People Manage Feelings of Scanxiety?

"For a lot of my patients, the scanxiety lessens over time," says Dr. Kang, noting that she's found it's particularly challenging for patients as they transition from active treatment to survivorship. "But I think, in a way, it's always there."

In order to manage those negative feelings, Dr. Carmichael suggests getting honest with yourself about the root of the scanxiety. If it's symbolic of a much deeper, more pervasive concern, it can be helpful to speak with a mental health professional to address.

That said, if it's the unpleasant appointment itself that's sparking scanxiety, there are a number of ways to ease symptoms - before, during, and after a scan.

1. Find Positive Diversions

To start, it can be useful to seek healthy distractions, says Dr. Carmichael. She recommends coming up with five things that can help redirect your attention leading up to an exam. Perhaps that's watching TV, getting a nice massage, or even bringing a loved one to the appointment. For Santos, those activities include "Pilates and yoga classes, dance, and enjoying a glass of wine and laughter with girlfriends," she says. "After the scan, I try not to dwell on it, by keeping myself busy with working out or going on an outing with my family or a friend."

2. Practice Mindfulness

According to Dr. Kang, there is evidence that mindfulness and mind-body techniques can be helpful for patients going through cancer, "so it's logical to think it could be useful for scans, too." She suggests trying meditation before a scan, or making it a regular practice.

Heitz has personally found meditation and breathwork incredibly helpful during her own cancer journey, particularly for processing her experience. "I really try hard and just sit with the emotion and I don't shove it away and compartmentalize it," she says. "If I need to cry, I will cry."

3. Try Thought Replacement

"Your inner monologue is really going to shape the way you experience [scans]," says Dr. Carmichael, which is why she recommends trying a technique called "thought replacement" during highly stressful moments. For example, if your annual scan is coming up to confirm you're in remission, and your brain is flooded with negativity, she suggests repeating to yourself: "I'm strong, I'm healthy, this scan is just to confirm that things are as they should be." It's important to give yourself a specific script to focus on, to help quiet maladaptive thoughts.

If you're not in remission, but rather in the midst of treatment, Dr. Carmichael says a helpful thought replacement might be: "I'm in the safest place imaginable. I'm in the right place to get the care I need."

This type of thinking has been useful for Santos. "Because I'm a naturally positive person and have a strong faith, I always tell myself nothing will be found on the scans, and I go into them with as much positivity as possible," she says.

4. Communicate With Your Doctors

While there are a number of ways to help ease internal turmoil, it can also be incredibly helpful to vocalize fears or concerns to your medical provider. "I really encourage patients to open up with their doctor, because we're the ones ordering scans for you. We want to know if there's any kind of support or assistance we can give pre-scan," says Dr. Kang.

It's important to communicate these needs, because they look different for everyone. For instance, "some patients are information junkies and want to see their scan results ASAP while others want to wait until a healthcare provider can put it into context," says Dr. Kang. Whether you fall into the first or second category, she encourages patients to ask questions like: "How should I expect results? Can I reach out to you or someone from the team to explain my scan to me? Etc." Simply opening up the conversation can do wonders for easing that fear and anxiety around the unknown and uncertain.

5. Lean on Your Support System

In addition to seeking support on your medical team, "it's really important to make sure that you don't go through things alone," says Dr. Carmichael. "Psychology research shows that, in general, social support is good for people. And when we feel afraid or insecure, it helps to have an ally."

Both Heitz and Santos confirm just how crucial it is to find a strong community. "My big thing is asking friends for help, and talking to my family about how I feel, especially when I'm feeling scared," says Heitz. "My mom, in particular, is so positive. She kept me marching the whole way through."

Beyond friends and family, Dr. Kang says counseling can also be incredibly helpful, if that's available.

The Bottom Line About Scanxiety

There's no getting around it: Cancer-related scans can be frightening and stressful, and it's not shameful or embarrassing if you do experience "scanxiety."

There are a number of ways to manage this unpleasant sensation, and many experts hope to see more acknowledgement and accommodations in the future of medicine. "I do think we have to focus on healthy ways to treat and support patients with the very natural anxiety response that happens with scans," says Dr. Kang. "[That could mean] building out mindfulness-based programs or just making the clinical setting a more healing and less scary space. I think we need to support the patient's experience, not just treat a disease."

In the meantime, "scanxiety or no scanxiety, get the scans done!" says Santos, noting that her cancer was detected early at stage one, thanks to routine breast scans. "I've always scheduled my medical screenings as recommended. These tests have saved my life and I'm forever grateful."

As for Heitz, her one-year scan confirmed she was in remission. And the emotional roller-coaster of that scanxiety experience helped her put things back into perspective: "It's just another reminder to not get hung up on the small things," she says. "My job is to keep a smile on my face, and live each day in the moment."

Kristine Thomason is a lifestyle writer and editor based in Southern California. Previously, she was the health and fitness director at mindbodygreen, and the fitness and wellness editor at Women's Health. Kristine's work has also appeared in PS, Travel + Leisure, Men's Health, Health, and Refinery29, among others.

The Truth About Sharing Your Breast Cancer Journey On Social Media

Chandler Plante — Fri, 23 Oct 2026 11:00:02 -0700

Health is a deeply personal topic. For most of us, it's something we navigate privately, which means a lot of questions are left unanswered, shrouded in fear. But talking about our health openly and honestly can help us feel less alone, establish community, and give others hope when they need it most. On social media, though, it also leaves you vulnerable to opinionated commenters, unsolicited medical advice, and harsh criticism.

This duality is something Leila Esmaeili understands well. At just 30 years old, she reached across her chest and found a quarter-size mass near her right breast. As a dermatology physician assistant, she knew it didn't feel like a cyst or a benign fatty tumor, so she quickly got an ultrasound before having the mass removed and sent to pathology for a biopsy. The initial ultrasound looked fine, and she went into her 31st birthday feeling relieved. It wasn't until after the biopsy came back that she was diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer (TNBC) on Jan. 23, 2024.

"When I got diagnosed, I was like, 'Oh my gosh, I have to share this with the world,'" Esmaeili tells PS. The surprise of the diagnosis was her main motivator, but she also knew that - as a medical provider herself - she'd be comfortable detailing her breast cancer journey in ways others might not.

"Before I got my diagnosis, I didn't really post much," Esmaeili says. She had three posts on Instagram and only downloaded TikTok after her diagnosis. She started by sharing the news on Instagram and received overwhelming support from her immediate circle. She then posted her diagnosis story to TikTok, where she reached an additional 1.5 million internet strangers. Viral cold-capping videos came next, along with chemotherapy details, surgery updates, and candid check-ins.

"This isn't just people that know me that want to support me."

"It started picking up and being like, 'Oh, so this isn't just people that know me that want to support me,'" Esmaeili says. She didn't follow many people on #CancerTok in the beginning ("I found that it would scare me," she says), but social media made it easier for her to navigate such an aggressive type of breast cancer. "I met a lot of women that were in the breast cancer community," she says. "If I would ever post a question, I got an answer in two seconds."

Esmaeili says that chronicling her breast cancer journey online has been an overwhelmingly positive experience. But that's not to say she's avoided internet trolls altogether. "When you share something like that with the world, you open up the door for opinions. And let me tell you, any opinion that's off track [with] what you're already doing just freaks you out," she says.

When she does encounter negativity online (and thankfully, it's rare), her best advice is to block the person and move on. "Every so often I'll have someone say something stupid like, 'Chemo will kill you. Just eat kale,' and I just block them," she says.

It isn't fun, but Esmaeili will deal with an occasional off-putting comment if it means raising awareness about TNBC. "I was barely 31 years old and I didn't have any family history. I was that girl that was meal prepping and working out and all this stuff," she says. Her story helps people understand that breast cancer can truly affect anyone at any time.

Posting about breast cancer gives some patients an outlet and a stronger sense of community. But in many cases, it also gives back to the people watching. "The biggest thing when it comes [down to it] is the 'why,'" Esmaeili says. And for her, it's all about trying to prevent others from feeling the same kind of shock and fear she once did.

"Something horrible happened to me and I wanted to make something good come out of it," she says. "And that was: how can I make this less scary and easier for the people that come after me?"

Chandler Plante (she/her) is an assistant health and fitness editor for PS. She has over four years of professional journalism experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine and contributing to Ladygunn, Millie, and Bustle Digital Group.

How Women With ALS Support Each Other Through a Terminal Diagnosis

Chandler Plante — Fri, 23 Oct 2026 10:00:02 -0700

ALS isn't (just) an old man's game. After receiving an ALS diagnosis in her early 30s, Brooke Eby did what was natural: crawled into bed with a party-size bag of M&Ms. For months, all she could focus on was survival. Then, after attending a wedding with the same walker as the bride's grandmother, she started to rekindle her sense of joy. Instead of feeling ashamed for her mobility aid, Eby found herself offering guests rides on the back of it. There was still life to be lived, and she intended to give it her all. Over the next few years, she documented her medical journey, wonderfully dark humor, and fierce advocacy up until her death on Oct. 1.

ALS - or amyotrophic lateral sclerosis - is a pretty equal-opportunity party pooper. Although it's sometimes thought of as being reserved for older white men, the progressive neurodegenerative disease can affect anyone, ultimately destroying motor neurons in the brain and spinal cord. "Guys! If I've taught you anything, it's that ALS affects hot people, too," Eby famously joked. And with 90 percent of cases occurring without any known family history or genetic cause, there's nothing you can do to prevent it.

For some, a terminal diagnosis would be a complete stop. But people like Eby know there's still a lot you can do on a shorter timeline. Take the women of Her ALS Story, for example. This year, they held the largest-ever gathering of young women with ALS . . . and they celebrated accordingly. Think: wheelchair races, drag shows, beach days, and late-night dance parties. Ahead, we asked Her ALS Story members what the community means to them, how they find levity amid the grief, and how they're cultivating joy alongside one another.

The Power of Connection

It was Her ALS Story vice president Kate Nycz who decided to bring the retreat to Cape Cod. This being the group's fifth annual gathering, Nycz says she already had an idea of what to expect. "Local guests and staff are staring, but it's in a good way. They're seeing disability having fun," Nycz tells Popsugar. "Not that look of pity and, 'Oh, poor thing, she's so young.' I fucking hate that."

This year, a whopping 41 women with ALS came to the Warrior Weekend retreat for comfort, joy, and community. But of course, it takes time for genuine connections to form. Her ALS Story celebrations lead, Monique Green, remembers feeling a bit reserved herself in the beginning. "I always say, 'No new friends,' because I don't like to have to explain what happened to me or what my life was like before I had ALS," Green says. Not having to constantly explain herself felt like a gift. "Being at the retreat, it's not like you're on display because everyone surrounding you is going through the same thing."

Image Source: Liz Linder Photography

This rare sense of normalcy was also a highlight for Her ALS Story community lead Kim Trautman. "Being at the retreat together with such a large group means that, for once in my life, I don't have to explain why I have a tracheostomy and cannot speak, or why I have a feeding tube and cannot swallow well," Trautman tells Popsugar. "If you need help eating, if you can't find your reusable plastic straw, if you lost your feeding tube extension piece, or need someone to turn on your suction machine, someone is always there to help, no questions asked."

"It was just awesome to feel like I was a part of the celebration."

Being surrounded by people who deeply understand your needs and see you for who you are is already a major win. But the levity integrated into the programming is another part of makes the Her ALS Story weekend so unforgettable. This year, the itinerary included wheelchair races, glam sessions, and a full-on drag show. "Everyone was dancing and partying, [but] I really can't move my arms," Green says. "At least three people came up to me and grabbed my arms and waved them in the air and helped me dance. It was just awesome to feel like I was a part of the celebration."

Following the death of her close friend, Katie, Trautman says the party also brought her a surprising amount of solace. At one point, she even got to dance alongside Katie's young daughter. "The amount of grief that I have felt since Katie's passing has been difficult to manage," Trautman says. "Dancing with my late friend's daughter and being able to see her at the retreat brought me some of the comfort, peace, and healing that I so desperately needed."

Re-Framing the Narrative

For, Trautman, Her ALS Story has been an integral part of re-writing the narrative of the disease being frequently associated with old white men. She credits much of this work to the group's founder, Leah Stavenhagen, who died in February of this year. Nycz explains why it was so important for young women, specifically, to have support along their ALS journey.

"It was everything looking up and moving forward."

Nycz says most ALS support groups are made up of older people who have already lived long, full lives. It's completely different for the women at Her ALS Story, many of whom were diagnosed much younger. "I [had] three months before my wedding, I was five years into a career as a nurse practitioner. It was everything looking up and moving forward," Nycz says. It's a lonely feeling when everyone else in the room is wondering, "Will my kids be OK?" and you're just wondering if you'll ever be able to reach a milestone like that at all.

The women of Her ALS Story have all dealt with the anger of an early diagnosis - the grief of losing a friend. But they also have a unique perspective on how to get through it. "It brings me joy when I think about a group of badass, young women empowering and supporting one another in the fight," Trautman says. "We may not have been able to choose the cards that we were dealt, but we will definitely choose how we will be playing them."

Remembering Loved Ones

For all the fun found at the retreat, the women of Her ALS Story know you can't move forward in joy without taking a moment to honor the grief. "There is a moment that we take at every retreat to remember those we've lost throughout the year," Green says. This year, at the end of their beach day, the group honored the members they had lost, writing out their favorite memories on dissolvable paper and sending them out into the ocean. "We lost 13 members from the last retreat to this one," Nycz says. "Feeling like they're a small part of the big ocean is how I feel about them in the group. Heavy shit, but it feels like I put them into an ebbing and a flowing of grief and joy."

Nycz admits it's hard to look around and know that a member of her community might not be there to celebrate next year. But while the years are peppered with loss, they're also overflowing with love, laughter, and friendship. What better way to spend the time? "They are there to pick me up when I'm sad, celebrate with me when I'm happy, rage with me when I'm fed up," Nycz says. "These women deserve all my fight."

Breast Cancer Changed My Timeline for Motherhood - Here's What No One Tells You

Amanda Butler — Wed, 21 Oct 2026 07:00:02 -0700

In July 2022, at age 32, I found a lump in my right breast. I was concerned, but because I didn't know of anyone in my family who'd had breast cancer, I thought it was probably nothing to worry about. Even so, as a precaution, I saw a doctor. During my exam, they palpated the lump, and I remember them saying, "Oh, it moves around. This is great. It's probably a cyst." They still recommended a follow-up mammogram, followed by an ultrasound and biopsy. But after the doctor's visit, I felt pretty confident that everything would be OK.

I got "the call" on a Monday evening. I was driving home from the gym when I listened to the voicemail. "Hey Amanda, we got your biopsy results in, but we would love for you to come in tomorrow morning or as soon as you can to get these results," the nurse said. I'd worked for a health IT company before becoming a personal trainer and fitness instructor, and from my time in healthcare, I knew this was not a good sign. I had a pit in my stomach, called my sister, and immediately started bawling on the phone. She told me to try to stay calm and keep busy that night.

The next morning, I went into the doctor's office. As soon as the doctor walked into my room with two nurses, I knew. "I'm so sorry to tell you, but Amanda, you have breast cancer," he said - and I just lost it.

"You're going to be spending a lot of time at hospitals and doctors' visits over the next year or so. But I believe that you're going to be OK," he continued. At that moment, I couldn't even process what he was saying. I felt frozen, and I didn't know what to do next. Following this visit, I had a PET scan and MRI. After these tests, I was diagnosed again, this time with stage 2 breast cancer.

My mind was spinning. I just kept thinking, "My career is fitness." My work is so centered around my body; I couldn't wrap my mind around how I'd continue doing my job after my diagnosis. I felt like I'd been on this successful trajectory. I was a trainer for PS Fit; I was a trainer for Amazon; I was doing all these amazing campaigns. And then it was like the rug was swept out from underneath me.

My fertility plans, in particular, were kicked into overdrive. My number-one priority has always been creating a family. Even as a kid, I was never one of the girls who would dream about a wedding; I was dreaming about having my own babies. Since I was single at 32, I was already considering freezing my eggs in 2023, but I hadn't moved forward with a plan yet. When I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, though, I was told I'd be starting chemo shortly which could lead to infertility. Immediately, I felt like my clock was ticking. Over the next few months, I went through one of the most difficult and complicated fertility journeys. Here's everything I wish someone had told me about fertility and freezing eggs while in the early stages of breast cancer.

1. Make sure you have a good care team in place.

When I asked my oncologist about freezing my eggs, the initial reaction I got was shocking: "But you want to pass your BRCA2 gene down to your children?" he said, as if I shouldn't dare have kids. I was appalled. I couldn't believe that someone on my care team would say something like this. I ultimately ended up switching oncologists before starting chemo and continued with my own egg-preservation research, tapping friends who were connected in the fertility space to ask questions. It's important to remember that your care team should feel like a team, one that is working in your best interest and goals. And if you don't feel like that's happening, it's OK to find another one.

2. Find a fertility clinic that has experience dealing with breast cancer patients.

In any circumstances, egg freezing isn't easy. But being newly diagnosed with breast cancer, my mind was all over the place. In that state, all I wanted was people to comfort me. Unfortunately, the fertility clinic I went to wasn't geared toward people in my situation. And if I'm honest, the egg-freezing experience was an awful one for me.

It was a mess from start to finish. My clinic never laid out a clear timeline or sat me down to explain in detail how things would go. It was always, "Come and get blood drawn tomorrow," with no explanation of timeline or process.

Each time I arrived at the clinic, they tried to slap me with a large bill, despite my explaining to them that my procedures were covered by California's SB 600 law, which requires fertility clinics to cover the cost of egg preservation if it's related to a cancer diagnosis.

In fact, I had to explain to them multiple times that I was doing this for cancer and I had to be done with egg freezing by the time I started chemo. The clinic didn't seem to care. My egg-retrieval procedure ended up being scheduled the day before I was supposed to start chemo, something I would never recommend. The egg retrieval itself was really physically difficult and much more painful, for much longer, than I'd anticipated. I thought the second my eggs were retrieved, I was going to feel like myself again. But I was in pain for about two weeks.

Plus, you pump the body with so many hormones for the egg retrieval; to get pumped with chemo the very next day was the biggest shock to the system. I was also disappointed at the lack of aftercare guidance I got from the fertility doctors. My body was pretty messed up for a while after the retrieval and my first round of chemo. My belly was distended for two weeks. I had no appetite and had a hard time keeping food down.

While friends of mine who had gone through egg freezing gave me some advice about resting, hydrating, and avoiding exercise, I wished I'd gotten more information from my care team - especially about the combination of side effects from the egg retrieval and chemotherapy. That's why it's so crucial to find a clinic that has experience with breast cancer patients so that they can anticipate and answer every question that crosses your mind. You want to feel as prepared as possible going into something like this - and unfortunately, that wasn't my experience.

3. Set realistic post-retrieval goals.

Another unexpected part of this journey was learning when I can actually use the eggs. It's advised to hold off on having kids until at least two years after stopping chemotherapy. And if your like me and have to go through multiple rounds of chemo and a double mastectomy, your timeline could be even longer. That period of waiting feels like both a blessing and a curse. Being realistic about the timeline is crucial.

4. Prioritize mindset and support.

On one hand, egg freezing has given me more time and insurance to feel like I don't have to rush to have kids. But it's also really hard, because at the time I was diagnosed, I started seeing all of my friends and family have kids, and I physically wasn't allowed to. No one prepares you for the mental and emotional toll of that. It's pretty hard to grasp, especially if having kids is something you really, really want, like it is for me.

A crucial part of processing my fertility and cancer journey has been my mindset. I've had to remind myself that even though I'm doing so much of this for the first time, I've actually seen all of the emotions that the experience brings about before: I've felt heartache before, I've felt disappointment before, I've felt illness and the sense of being trapped by my own body when sick before. That's allowed me to use what I've learned from those past experiences to get through cancer and helped me switch the narrative in my mind from "Why is this happening to me?" to "What is this trying to teach me?"

I've also become way more public about my experiences online and created a virtual support group called Cancer Baddies. We have meetings with the group where we just get on a call, talk all things cancer, and bitch about everything we're going through. You really need to have that strong support system of people who know what you're experiencing - otherwise it's going to feel very lonely.

- As told to Alexis Jones

Alexis Jones (she/her) is the senior health and fitness editor at PS. In her six years of editorial experience, Alexis has developed passions and areas of expertise around mental health, women's health and fitness, racial and ethnic disparities in healthcare, and chronic conditions. Prior to joining PS, she was the senior editor at Health magazine. Her other bylines can be found at Women's Health, Prevention, Marie Claire, and more.

My Clitoris Ghosted Me After Breast Cancer - Here's How I Found Pleasure Again

Corinne Menn, DO — Wed, 21 Oct 2026 05:45:02 -0700

There's never a good time to get breast cancer, but my 2001 diagnosis came during a life stage that was hardly ideal. I was 28 at the time and a second-year ob-gyn resident, newly married to my college sweetheart. Life was busy, but going great - until it wasn't.

My diagnosis was a shock. I had felt a breast lump myself, but I originally dismissed it because I thought I was too young for breast cancer. Even my fellow physicians thought the same thing. But a few months later, my mom was diagnosed with late-stage ovarian cancer and died soon after. At her funeral, I thought, "Maybe I should get that lump checked out." It put me on a path that would dramatically influence my physical and sexual health - and change how I talk to patients now.

My cancer treatment put me into menopause.

Once I had my lump investigated, my fears were confirmed: I had breast cancer, stage 2A estrogen receptor-positive breast cancer, to be specific. My treatment involved a bilateral mastectomy, where both of my breasts were removed, along with six months of chemotherapy.

I was put into menopause three times - one was from chemotherapy, another was medically induced, and a few years down the road, I chose to have my ovaries removed because of my mom's history with ovarian cancer.

But my OB training did not prepare me for what the average woman dealing with premature menopause or menopause would go through, and my sexual health took a hit for years because of it.

I experienced clitoral atrophy, and didn't even realize it.

There was no discussion at all with my medical team about any of the sexual side effects I might experience from menopause. I don't think it's because they thought I already knew about this from being a doctor. They either didn't know it themselves or just didn't think it was important to discuss with me. But I was 28 and I was only married for a year. I didn't know what to look out for.

So, I ended up dealing with a diminished sexual response. Meaning, sex didn't feel the same as it used to. I later learned that this was due to clitoral atrophy, which is when the clitoris shrinks or no longer responds the way it should to sexual arousal. Sex was also a little bit more painful due to vaginal dryness from menopause. It took longer to get aroused, too. Frankly, sometimes I would have performative sex to just keep my relationship going.

I didn't even realize that I was dealing with symptoms until years later. I had just gotten used to them and assumed that this was how sex was as you got older.

But in my own work as a menopause specialist, I attended a few conferences that address the latest treatments for women in this life stage. It was from those conferences that I realized, hey, I need to be aggressive and treat this. I had become lazy about my own sexual health, and it was time to change that.

Treatment made a huge difference for me.

I started with localized vaginal estrogen, which is a treatment that goes into the vagina and is considered safe for the type of cancer that I had. I then started adding in low-dose testosterone to address my low libido - we know that the tissue of the vulva, vagina, and clitoris have a lot of receptors for estrogen and testosterone.

This ended up being the secret sauce that improved my symptoms. I suddenly realized, "Oh, this is how sex is supposed to feel?" Looking back, I now know that I had clitoral atrophy and vulvar atrophy. But you don't realize what you've lost until you get it back.

Every woman's experience with clitoral atrophy is different.

I now treat patients with clitoral atrophy, and some experience more severe symptoms than I did. Some women have a complete inability to orgasm; Others can experience scarring and adhesions to the clitoral hood, which interferes with pleasure.

My experience with clitoral atrophy is why I now specialize in menopause care. I try to advocate for survivors so they know that it's not normal to have to suffer through this. I should have never had to deal with years of being untreated and under-treated, and neither should they. Unfortunately, clitoral atrophy is a progressive phenomenon. Meaning, it will get worse over time if you do nothing. That's why it's so important for women to speak up when they're struggling.

In my opinion, discussions around sexual health side effects should be a standard part of informed consent in receiving medications for cancer. It's a crime that women have to discover this on their own and be their own advocates. This should be the standard of care.

If you're starting treatment for cancer, you should ask your oncologist about potential sexual side effects of your medication. Don't be ashamed. You can just simply say, "I'm concerned about sexual side effects. What can you do to prevent them from happening?" Just be aware that many times an oncologist or even an ob-gyn will tell you to use a non-hormonal over-the-counter moisturizer and lubricant. Those are helpful, but they won't prevent the underlying issues of loss of collagen and blood flow. We have countless published studies that find we can use low-dose hormones for breast cancer survivors, including women on active treatment.

It's been 24 years since I had breast cancer, and I'm in really good health. I have no evidence of disease. My sexual health is good, my menopause symptoms are under control, and I feel the best I've felt in years. But it took a lot of time and self-advocacy to get here. Now, I'm doing everything I can to help other women avoid the complicated sexual health journey I had to go through.

- As told to Korin Miller

Korin Miller is a writer specializing in general wellness, health, and lifestyle trends. Her work has appeared in Women's Health, Self, Health, Forbes, and more.

Wellness Clubs Are Changing Campus Culture

Alexis Jones — Tue, 20 Oct 2026 13:00:02 -0700

Pilates parties instead of mixers. Workout sets instead of Greek-letter tees. Matcha runs instead of bar crawls. As Gen Z navigates the college experience, they're rewriting the rules of community, finding belonging through workouts and wellness clubs. Welcome to the "wellness darty" era.

"It's like you're at a frat party, but you guys are all there to get better and feel better about yourselves," says Halle Kopperud of the event made popular by her school's wellness club. Kopperud is president of the University of Alabama chapter of Wellness Society, a collegiate, high school, and city-wide club focused on building community through wellness. The organization has over 175 chapters across the United states and Europe, a majority of which exist on college campuses. But the University of Alabama is where it all began.

"Everyone could come together, and wellness would be what united all of us."

Cofounders and alumni Maya Sagen and Paris Lemons were both struggling to find their place in Greek life when they came up with the idea for the organization. "Alabama is a super big party school, so there wasn't really a place to meet people and connect outside of just going to the bars or going to a formal. And so [Lemons and I] wanted to create a space where people were able to connect and make friends . . . outside of the partying," Sagen says. Lemons reiterates the point, adding that they wanted to offer students another outlet for inclusive community. "You didn't have to look a certain way to join. You didn't have to be from a certain place. Everyone could come together, and wellness would be what united all of us," Lemons says.

Within their first semester of starting the club, they had over 800 members. Soon after, they were franchising through other schools, making a name for themselves at universities and wellness communities across the country. And now, their university chapter is in the spotlight again for kicking off the wellness darty trend taking over social media with related videos on TikTok ranging from 500,000 to 3.5 million views. Kopperud says the popularity represents a generational shift in priorities.

The Wellness Society

"We want longevity and we want to be well and stay healthy, and it's really cool," Kopperud says. It's also much less intimidating to prioritize your health when you're doing so in droves, says Caroline Garfield, a University of Miami student and the president of Coral Gables Wellness Society.

"When you do [wellness darties] in these big groups like this, it gets everybody incentivized to do it so they don't feel like embarrassed or shy to do something that actually helps their body instead of doing a keg stand," Garfield says. The darties and the society have been safe spaces for Kopperud too, a former dancer, who found herself struggling to maintain her fitness routine once she left home.

"Once I got to college, I wasn't dancing anymore and there wasn't really like a set space to like do those things, like work out without feeling judged. I wouldn't feel comfortable just going to the gym because there was all these gym bros and it was just very overwhelming," Kopperud says. Then she found Pilates and shortly after that, the Wellness Society. "That was the first time I started doing Pilates because I felt like it was more of a safe space. It was like all girls and it was a lot more low-key."

That messaging has resonated beyond college campuses, with the brand's Instagram following reaching 70,000 organically within a year. Sagen and Lemons both turned down more traditional paths - pre-med and commercial real estate, respectively - to pursue to Wellness Society full time. The organization also offers high school and local city chapters across the country and internationally, activating around large cultural events like Formula One Monaco and Art Basel in Miami bringing both luxury and community to the wellness market.

"There's so much more to wellness than just a Pilates mat with a goodie bag at the top of it," Sagen says. "We're trying to do things differently." Lemons adds, "We'll get emails of girls saying they met their best friend, they met their roommate. There's relationships started at these events."

Alexis Jones (she/her) is the section lead of the health and fitness verticals at Popsugar, overseeing coverage across the website, social media, and newsletters. In her eight-plus years of editorial experience, Alexis has developed passions for and expertise in mental health, women's health and fitness, racial and ethnic disparities in healthcare, and chronic conditions. Prior to joining PS, she was the senior editor at Health magazine. Her other bylines can be found at Women's Health, Prevention, Marie Claire, and more.

She Dedicated Her Career to Detecting Breast Cancer - Then She Found Her Own

Alexis Jones — Tue, 20 Oct 2026 10:20:02 -0700

Rachel Brem, MD, already had a plan in place. She was going to get a prophylactic mastectomy, determined to get ahead of breast cancer this time. When Dr. Brem was just 12, her mother had been diagnosed and told she had six months to live. Though her mom ultimately underwent a successful surgery and lived another 44 years, the experience left a lasting impact. "Our lives were completely turned upside down," Dr. Brem recalls. It's what propelled Dr. Brem into medicine in the first place and convinced her of the importance of early detection; part of why her mother was able to beat breast cancer was because it had been caught early.

Dr. Brem didn't want her own children to go through what she had, so she got tested for the BRCA gene in her 30s. When the results came back positive, she decided to have a bilateral preventative mastectomy. At the time, Dr. Brem felt more prepared than most to make such a huge decision. She was an MD, working as the director of breast imaging at Johns Hopkins.

"You can try to trick [breast cancer], but you can never really be sure that you're gonna get away with it."

But, of course, cancer doesn't care about education, experience, or how well someone may understand the disease - and it doesn't adhere to timelines. "You can try to trick [breast cancer], but you can never really be sure that you're gonna get away with it," Dr. Brem says.

At 37 years old, she learned that the hard way.

Months before her preventative mastectomy, Dr. Brem was testing out ultrasound equipment for different vendors - something she did regularly as part of her job. "After a day of seeing patients, I would try the equipment on myself and see which one has the best image quality. And so, that evening, I found out which one has the best image quality, but as I was scanning myself, I also found my own breast cancer."

The discovery came with a flood of emotions. On the one hand, Dr. Brem felt "lucky about the power of knowledge." But she was also simply terrified. "I had three young daughters. I didn't know that I was going to survive to raise them," she tells PS. On top of that: "The idea of cancer surgery - which is much more intense than the kind of surgery that I planned to have - and going through chemotherapy, it's terrifying for anybody," Dr. Brem says.

Fortunately, breaking the news to her children wasn't as traumatic as her own experience growing up. "My daughters had been had been living with the idea of breast cancer all their life - that's what their mother did [for work]," she tells PS. "That was dinner talk." In many ways, Dr. Brem feels lucky for that. Despite not breaking the generational diagnosis, she was able to break the trauma.

Cancer treatment is never easy, but Dr. Brem knows enough about what the journey can look like to appreciate that her experience was relatively seamless. "When a woman is diagnosed with breast cancer, if it's medically reasonable, they say, 'Do you want to do a lumpectomy or a mastectomy?' And the answer is, 'Gee, I really don't want breast cancer,'" she says. "You have to make these crazy-profound life-altering decisions with so little information." She couldn't imagine having to do so without the years of medical training under her belt.

Not to mention, breast cancer does not effect all women equally, Dr. Brem point outs. Ashkenazi Jewish women are 10 times more likely to have the BRCA1 or BRCA2 mutation than the general US population. And Black women die of breast cancer at a much higher rate because they get this more aggressive form of triple negative breast cancer. Couple that with lack of access, socioeconomic barriers, and racial disparities in healthcare, and the odds of survival can become discouraging. Investing in early detection efforts are crucial, Dr. Brem says.

That's why she not only co-authored a book, "No Longer Radical," about navigating mastectomies - but also founded the Brem Foundation, an organization dedicated to making early detection possible for more people via access, education, advocacy. Since it's inception, the foundation has launched partnerships like Wheels For Women with Lyft - which provides free rides to mammogram appointments for low-income women - and CheckMate, an online quiz designed to interpret your risk factors and suggest what you should talk to your doctor about in regards to breast cancer. Most recently, the organization launched CheckMate Works, a new workplace breast health education program to help employees better understand their breast cancer risk, screening options, and the importance of early detection. And personally, as the director of the breast imaging and intervention center at the George Washington Cancer Center, Dr. Brem has made it her mission to invest in and work toward developing new technologies for the early detection of breast cancer.

The through line of it all: early detection. It's been an essential part of Dr. Brem's work and decades-long career. It's what she credits to saving her own life and that of her mom. And it's what she believes will carry us into the future. "We kind of do have a cure for breast cancer - [it's] early detection," Dr. Brem says. In focusing efforts there, she hopes that for an increasing number of women, breast cancer can be like any other chronic disease, like hypertension or diabetes. "That people can live with breast cancer, even metastatic breast cancer for decades," she says.

Wait, Are We Still Doing Self-Breast Exams?

Korin Miller — Mon, 19 Oct 2026 13:20:02 -0700

With more young adults getting breast cancer today, it's important to stay up on prevention methods. But the conversation around self-breast exams has changed over the past few years, leaving people with breasts a little confused. There was once a time when self-exams were taught in doctor's offices, but now they aren't even mentioned during many appointments.

Public guidance around these exams is admittedly blurry, too. The American Cancer Society (ACS) does not specifically recommend that people do self-exams. Instead, the ACS says online that research has not shown a clear benefit of doing regular physical breast exams, whether they're conducted at home or by healthcare providers. The ACS also notes that there's little evidence to suggest that the tests help detect breast cancer early when women and those assigned female at birth (AFAB) also get mammograms as recommended.

But the ACS also points out that most breast cancer is detected when a lump is found during everyday activities like bathing or getting dressed, noting that it's important to be familiar with how your breasts normally look and feel.

Not sure what to think about self-breast exams? You're not the only one. Here's what doctors have to say about them, plus how to actually do a breast exam on yourself.

Experts Featured in This Article:

Richard Reitherman, MD, is a radiologist and medical director of breast imaging at MemorialCare Breast Center at Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, CA.

Avan Armaghani, MD, is a medical oncologist at Moffitt Cancer Center's Breast Oncology Department.

Austin Williams, MD, is an assistant professor in the department of surgical oncology at Fox Chase Cancer Center.

How Effective Are Self-Breast Exams?

This is controversial, and there are a few reasons why. The big message from many public health organizations, including the ACS, is that self-breast exams may cause false positive results, making women think that they have breast cancer when they actually don't. This can lead to unnecessary testing, which can sometimes be invasive (think: biopsies), along with causing a lot of stress. Ultimately, the takeaway from these organizations is that self-breast exams can cause more harm than good.

But some doctors argue otherwise, especially given the potential for early detection in those under 40. "Even if women follow American College of Radiology or The National Comprehensive Cancer Network guidelines, starting mammography before the age of 40 is not recommended unless there are increased risk factors," says Richard Reitherman, MD, radiologist and medical director of breast imaging at MemorialCare Breast Center at Orange Coast Medical Center in Fountain Valley, CA. "Ten percent of all breast cancers occur in women under the age of 40." In other words, self-exams can be particularly helpful in catching cancer in younger populations.

Avan Armaghani, MD, a medical oncologist at Moffitt Cancer Center's Breast Oncology Department, also says that self-exams should be done monthly. "Usually one week following their period is the best time," she says. "It is important that women are familiar with their breasts so that they are able to recognize when something feels or looks different."

Dr. Armaghani stresses that self-breast exams shouldn't replace annual mammograms. "Women still should undergo annual mammogram screening starting at the age of 40," she says.

Who Should Do a Self-Breast Exam?

Everyone should perform these, says Austin Williams, MD, assistant professor in the department of surgical oncology at Fox Chase Cancer Center. "Any adult - women and men - should consider doing self-breast exams in order to become familiar with their breasts so they can alert their healthcare provider to any changes that they may find," he says.

How to Do a Self-Breast Exam

"When performing a self-breast examination, it is important to first visualize the breasts and look for any skin changes, redness, or rashes," Dr. Armaghani says. Make sure to look for any changes in the nipple, like nipple inversion or nipple discharge.

The National Library of Medicine has very specific instructions on how to actually do a self-breast exam. Here's what the agency recommends:

Place your right hand behind your head.
With the middle fingers of your left hand, gently yet firmly press down, using small motions to examine the entire right breast.
Feel your armpit as well (breast tissue goes into that area).
Gently squeeze your nipple, checking for discharge.
Repeat the process on your left breast.

Ultimately, Dr. Reitherman says that there is a role for mammograms and self-breast exams in breast cancer screening. "Screening mammography saves lives," he says. "Breast self-exams will also save lives for many women."

Korin Miller is a writer specializing in general wellness, health, and lifestyle trends. Her work has appeared in Women's Health, Self, Health, Forbes, and more.

She Discovered Her Own Breast Cancer While Reporting on Olivia Munn's Diagnosis

Mercey Livingston — Mon, 19 Oct 2026 12:00:02 -0700

When Inside Edition reporter Alison Hall was assigned to report on actress Olivia Munn's breast cancer diagnosis in March of 2024, she thought it was just another day on the job. But when Hall learned about something called the breast cancer risk assessment via Munn, her life changed. Munn credited the breast cancer risk assessment score with saving her life, detailing her journey to early-stage diagnosis in a 2024 Instagram post. At the time, "I had never heard of this test. My boss had never heard of this test. It seems like most people had really never talked about it," Hall says. "So they wanted me to go interview a doctor." She went to Lenox Hill Hospital in New York and interviewed a surgical oncologist in the breast cancer department.

"I met [the doctor] for the first time, and my bosses had said, 'Alison, if you're comfortable with it, would you take the test on camera so that we can really show people what it's like?'" Hall agreed, noting how important it was to share this information. "I said, "Of course, I believe in breast cancer awareness. This is important to me and to everyone. I'm happy to do that." While filming the segment for Inside Edition, Hall answered the series of personal questions required for the breast cancer risk assessment on camera. And at the end of the test, the doctor told Hall that her results revealed a 36 percent chance of developing breast cancer at some point in her life. "Anything over 20 percent is considered high risk," Hall recalls being told.

"We just have a true bond now. It's a bond that I see replicated in so many women in the breast cancer space."

It was a shock to Hall, considering the preventative measures she'd already taken to mitigate her risk of developing the condition. Hall's mother is a breast cancer survivor; she was diagnosed when Hall was a teenager and is now healthy after undergoing treatment. "Breast cancer was definitely a big part of my life as a teenager, a big part of my family's life. And I wondered whether it would eventually become a part of my life more directly. So in my 20s, I sought out a test for the BRCA genes, and I tested negative," says Hall.

But in taking the risk assessment that day, Hall became less confident about her future health outcomes. "I remember seeing Olivia's story earlier that day, and she noted that she was 37 percent," Hall recalls. Her score was just one point below Munn's. "So that raised my alarm bells a little bit," Hall says. After the test was over and the cameras were off, the doctor Hall interviewed urged her to take the test results seriously and get further screening.

Hall did, eventually getting a mammogram that revealed that she had dense and cystic breasts. She was told to get an MRI for more analysis since her breasts were considered extremely dense, which can make it harder to spot breast cancer. Hall scheduled the MRI for October 2024 and was notified that a few spots needed biopsy. The biopsies then revealed that she had early-stage breast cancer.

"As soon as I was diagnosed, I thought about [Olivia Munn] and just how wild this story was and how so many things needed to come together in order for me to get this early-stage diagnosis," Hall says. She was flooded with a mix of emotions, from devastation to gratitude. So she channeled that into an email and sent it to Munn who responded and continued to check in on her amidst her treatment process. "She was just so incredibly sweet and generous," Hall says. Eventually the two met in person and Hall was able to thank her IRL for her role in her early diagnosis. "We just have a true bond now. It's a bond that I see replicated in so many women in the breast cancer space; it really is a special connection," Hall says.

A few weeks after being diagnosed, Hall decided to get a double mastectomy with reconstruction (she was diagnosed in October 2024, and scheduled the surgery for January 2025) an experience that she says some people have misconceptions about, likening the procedure to an elective breast augmentation. "I feel passionately about educating people that a double mastectomy with reconstruction is very far from breast augmentation. It's a much more in-depth and strenuous surgery. It takes a lot out of your body, and it changes your body and your nerves and the functionality of your breasts for the rest of your life," Hall says. The surgery was challenging for her not only physically, but emotionally, an aspect of the recovery process that no one really talks about.

"To have something that was going to change my body – and a disease that is really scary that was threatening my body – it sort of created this feeling of feeling unsafe in my body," Hall says. "I really had to work hard to sort of build back that sense of safety and that sense of love for my body, knowing what it looks like and feels like now is different than what it was before." Now a year out from her second surgery (commonly referred to as "exchange surgery," where temporary breast implants called "expanders" are removed and replaced with more long-term silicone implants), Hall says she's regained her sense of confidence.

"[I'm] feeling better in my body and with my breasts than I ever thought that I would," she says. Her advice for others: It does get better - and to be patient when it comes to judging yourself and the experience. It can time to get to a place of acceptance, Hall admits, noting that it's been an active practice of self-love. "It's patience combined with actively working on it," she says.

Mercey Livingston is a writer and editor with eight-plus years of experience covering fitness, health, and nutrition for media outlets and brands including Well+Good, Shape, and Women's Health. She was the fitness editor at Peloton and held editorial roles at Equinox, Shape, and Well+Good. Mercey is a NASM-certified personal trainer and women's fitness specialist. She's also a certified holistic health coach through the Institute For Integrative Nutrition, with an additional certification in hormone health. She has a BA in journalism from the University of Southern Mississippi.

Cancer Patients Are Finding Joy in Treatment, Thanks to "Chemo Hobbies"

Chandler Plante — Thu, 08 Oct 2026 12:45:03 -0700

No two days of chemotherapy are the same. Upon arrival at the infusion center, patients wait for their medications to arrive, get prepped for treatment (which sometimes means pre-infusion blood work or pre-chemo meds), and spend the rest of the day in a gray recliner, watching the medicine drip-drip-drip through a port or IV. Depending on the specific treatment, a single chemo session can last over eight hours, leaving patients to pass the time on their own. To say it's not a particularly cheery process would be a massive understatement . . . but cancer patients are still finding ways to cultivate joy through it all. Kate Middleton, for one, relies on coloring during chemotherapy sessions.

"I didn't have the ability to read or really focus on anything," she said in a video shared on X. "[Coloring] was my way of exploring interesting things and being able to do something that did not require an end product." Intrigued by the concept of a "chemo hobby," we spoke with two other cancer survivors and thrivers to see how they kept their spirits high (and their stress down) in the midst of an especially tumultuous medical journey. From low-stakes creativity to full-on artwork, here are some of the chemo hobbies that have helped patients find comfort during chemo.

Chemo Hobbies in Action

After receiving her lymphoma diagnosis, 28-year-old Virginia Gelli already had an idea of what she wanted to do during treatment. "I've been crocheting for years, so I knew it was the one hobby that could keep both my mind and hands busy without making me too tired," she tells Popsugar. "It also gave me a way to stay creative at a time when so much of my life felt very uncreative and out of my control." During her chemo treatments she made small bags, stuffed animals, and small accessories for herself and friends.

Beyond just passing the time, crocheting is what gave Gelli a sense of purpose throughout an unpredictable chapter of life. "There was something really comforting about being able to sit down and make something with my hands, especially on the harder days," she explains. "Even if I only managed a few rows, I still felt like I was creating something."

Image Source: Courtesy of Virginia Gelli

"There was something really comforting about being able to sit down and make something."

24-year-old Allie Reece can relate to the power of creative hobbies. Her chemo hobby of choice was embroidery, which she initially discovered on social media and decided to learn during cancer treatment. She remembers organizing all her supplies in a bag to take with her wherever she went - from the infusion center to her endless doctors' appointments. "The personalization was what really drew me in. I love the care that goes into personalizing a gift for friends and family," Reece tells Popsugar. "During chemo, my projects were mainly putting my initials on my pajamas. I was pretty much living in them, and would always wear the button-up sets to chemotherapy for easy port access."

Although Reece happily rocked some finished projects herself, she also embroidered a plane for her pilot friend, a monogrammed pair of PJs for her oncologist, and several pieces for her childhood friend's baby girl. Embroidery demanded enough attention to keep Reece focused on something other than chemo, but it also helped her retain some sense of normalcy and control. "During a time when my body didn't even feel like my own, the least I could do was stake a claim over my pajamas," Reece says. "It brought me so much joy to be able to be able to make gifts for my friends, while also making things for myself that made my days a little brighter."

Image Source: Courtesy of Allie Reece

Chemo Hobbies Takeaways

As Middleton described, the best chemo hobbies are the ones that provide a sense of relief - whatever that may look like for you. Maybe it's the joy you feel from customizing your own PJs, or maybe it's the satisfaction you feel after finishing a project. Whatever the case may be, chemo hobbies aren't just about staying busy . . . they're about giving yourself something to focus on beyond the illness.

"Everyone should have a hobby to use as an outlet during chemo," Reece says. "It's so easy to get caught up in your thoughts during such a scary and uncertain time, so keeping my hands and mind busy was a HUGE help." Start with an activity you're already interested in, or a skill you've always wanted to try, Reece suggests. "You might be surprised at how creative you can be."

This is certainly something Gelli discovered about herself while crocheting during chemo. "For me, being creative was especially important because it gave me something that was completely separate from cancer - something I could make, enjoy and feel proud of, even on the days when I didn't feel like myself," she says. "There was something really nice about seeing a little project slowly come together while everything else in my life felt so difficult."

I Took a "Coastal Grandma" Trip as a Coastal Granddaughter

Chandler Plante — Tue, 06 Oct 2026 14:05:19 -0700

Everyone wants to be a coastal grandmother, but for all the wrong reasons. On social media, the coastal grandmother shops at local farmer's markets, vacations in Cape Cod, and eats lobster at every meal. She's Emily Gilmore hosting Friday night dinners in her Connecticut mansion - a purely aspirational aesthetic. But this viral ideal is one that would have my actual coastal grandmother calling BS.

As a young girl, my family of five stayed with my coastal grandmother in the same three-bed one-bath home my father grew up in. "If there's floor room, there's sleeping room!" Grammy liked to proclaim. We spent summers together on a blow-up mattress in a converted garage, shopped at Walmart, chased after fireflies, and explored the rocky beaches of Kittery, Maine. (Grammy called the 60°F water "refreshing.") It was simple, and it was perfect.

The coastal grandmother I grew up with didn't care about Instagrammable routines or luxury living. She'd sooner splurge on fresh scallops than a designer bag, and the only thing she wanted for Christmas was a restock of her favorite Dunkin' K-Cups. So when I got the opportunity to return to Maine for a coastal wellness retreat, I wanted to experience it from the perspective of an actual coastal grandmother. No complicated routines or viral trends, just back to basics. Here's everything I learned (and everything the internet gets wrong) about coastal wellness - coming from a coastal granddaughter.

My Coastal Wellness Experience

My coastal wellness trip started as all great things do: with coffee and lobster. I could practically see Grammy rolling her eyes at my oat milk and maple sea salt latte, but my younger sister and I needed the energy for our three-hour drive from Portland to Acadia. After finishing our food, the GMC team handed us the keys to a brand new Yukon Denali SUV - ours for the weekend. With chair warmers on, a carefully curated autumn playlist on full blast, and massaging car seats activated, we were ready to embark on our mini road trip in style. "I don't know how we're going to top this," my sister said as we drove through the impossibly vibrant autumn leaves.

We stayed in a tent at Under Canvas Acadia, which felt pretty on par with the no-frills ethos of a true coastal grandmother. Of course, most tents don't have a working shower, scenic oceanside view, or plush king-size bed. But to our credit, my sister and I still went the entire retreat without any WiFi or electricity, using lanterns and flashlights to see at night. We even built a fire for heat (and yes, triggered the fire alarm shortly afterwards).

After pulling into camp, we set our alarms for 3 a.m. so we could drive up to Cadillac Mountain and be among the first people to witness the sun rise over the eastern seaboard. Huddled next to each other for warmth, we stared at the horizon until the sun finally lifted its orange head above the sea, bathing the crowd of onlookers in an amber haze. It was like a scene from a movie: so beautiful it was hard to believe we were really there witnessing it in real life. But coastal wellness challenges us to breathe it all in and soak up the present moment.

Later that afternoon, my sister and I stole away for a hike in Acadia National Park and found ourselves completely lost - no parking, no visible trailheads, no signal. It was tempting to get frustrated and call the rest of the day a wash. Instead, we pulled over and asked for help.

"You can always turn the day around," my sister told me as we finally made our way to the Sieur de Monts Nature Center. We ended up hiking Jesup Path and followed a long wooden boardwalk through the middle of Acadia's white birch forest. We stopped to touch the peeling tree trunks and marveled at the great meadow - tall grasses blowing in the wind and leaves singed different shades of red and orange.

On the way back to Portland, we drank iced lattes and listed our favorite memories from the retreat. I glanced down at the GPS and wished I could freeze these final moments in time, extending our coastal wellness for hours and hours.

My Coastal Wellness Takeaways

Coastal wellness doesn't have to end the moment you leave New England. In fact, science says you can practice it practically anywhere. A 2022 study published in the Association for Psychological Sciences calls the kind of awe we experienced on our trip "a pathway to better mental and physical health." Simply put, when we're able to reduce our self-importance and increase our sense of meaning, oxytocin goes up and inflammation goes down. You can experience it yourself by waking up early enough to see the sunrise, hiking outdoors, or just watching the leaves fall on your next roadtrip. The best part is, it doesn't cost a thing.

Too often we reduce wellness to strict diets, pricey equipment, and disciplined fitness regimens. But if my childhood summers in Maine taught me anything, it's that wellness should be simple. It's not all about expensive red light chambers or full-body scans - it's about driving through Maine's misty fall foliage and gossiping with your sister. It's about pulling over for a particularly gorgeous patch of scarlet leaves because you never get to slow down in your normal life. It's about leaving your comfort zone, asking for help, and giving yourself permission to be awestruck more often. If you can do that, then congratulations! You're well on your way to becoming an actual coastal grandmother.

Behind the Effort to Get Formula Covered For Breast Cancer Survivors

Korin Miller — Fri, 11 Sep 2026 09:30:03 -0700

Johanna Tran was just 30 when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She's since undergone chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, radiation, and a DIEP flap reconstruction, which rebuilt her breast using her own skin and fat. "I am unable to breastfeed because I had a double mastectomy," she tells Popsugar.

In 2012, breast pumps and related breastfeeding equipment became covered by health insurance as part of the Affordable Care Act. But while this coverage supports nursing moms, it leaves out women like Tran who can't breastfeed out of medical necessity, requiring them to take on the additional costs of formula or donor milk out of pocket.

"Women didn't choose this path," says Tran, a 38-year-old mother of two in Florida who was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer in 2019. "I'm sure all of the mothers who are unable to breastfeed would love the opportunity to do so, but the choice has been taken away from them. It's not fair that on top of that, you face the hardship of having to pay for formula."

Katie LaMar was also unable to nurse after experiencing gynecological cancer twice. She welcomed a son with the help of a gestational carrier, and said her inability to breastfeed him was "deeply painful" for her. "I cried while holding my son in the hospital bed, apologizing for what I could not give him," she says.

Lawmakers are trying to help families like these with The Constance C. McDaniel Medically Necessary Infant Formula and Donor Milk Act, aka Connie's Bill. But the journey is just getting started. Here's what you need to know about the bill, and why it can make such a difference for some families.

The Financial Burden of Formula Feeding Is Real For These Families

LaMar estimates that she typically spent between $200 and $400 a month on formula to feed her son. "For a family already facing the costs of cancer, that recurring expense was difficult to absorb," she says.

Tran says it would "mean so much" to her for formula to be covered. "Breast cancer takes so much away from you, including your ability to feed your children naturally. There is no other option but formula," she says. "It feels like a double slap in the face that after surviving cancer, defying the odds and birthing healthy children, cancer strikes another blow by preventing you from feeding them."

Having formula covered by health insurance would be a big help for survivors, Tran continues. "Breast pumps are covered but you need breasts to use them… . This would even the playing field," she says.

How Will Connie's Bill Make a Difference?

Connie's Bill was named after Constance C. McDaniel, an advocate and mother who died from breast cancer in 2025, aims to cover medically necessary infant formula and donor milk for parents who can't breastfeed due to medical conditions. The bipartisan bill was created in partnership with Bobbie for Change and nonprofit organization The Breasties and introduced in the House of Representatives in May 2026.

The bill is "designed to close a glaring policy gap in the Affordable Care Act," says Michele Lampach, Bobbie for Change Director of Impact and Policy. "While current federal law mandates that insurance cover breast pumps for new parents - a huge win for breastfeeding and pumping families - it leaves behind cancer previvors, survivors, and others who medically cannot breastfeed due to breast or gynecologic surgeries or other medical diagnoses," she says.

Connie's Bill establishes a three-year federal pilot program to cover infant formula and donor milk for parents who can't breastfeed. "It is a long-overdue step toward true feeding equity, that all families receive the equivalent federal support towards feeding their babies," Lampach says.

McDaniel, who inspired the bill, "was a fierce advocate on a mission to ensure no other family had to fight the system the way she did," Lampach says. The bill has since been championed by legislative leaders like Congresswoman Debbie Wasserman Schultz.

"Too often, diseases like cancer take the deeply personal decision to breastfeed away from moms," Schultz says. "It's more important than ever that parents who need these nutritious products for their newborns out of medical necessity can access them. As a cancer survivor myself, I feel a deep obligation to raise awareness and solve this longstanding problem."

What Options Do Parents Have Now?

The Breasties originally reached out to infant formula maker Bobbie about this issue five years ago, Lampach says. "No one in government or the healthcare industry had an answer - let alone a solution," she says. "So, rather than wait for the system to fix itself, we became partners and launched the Bobbie Breasties Program to act as a temporary bridge, providing a full year of free formula to hundreds of mothers navigating cancer diagnoses."

Tran is one of them. "It has made a tremendous difference in our lives," she says. To date, the Bobbie Breasties Program has supported 615 families. "This was never meant to be a permanent substitute for systemic support," Lampach says. "Along the way, we've been actively pushing to change the law."

Extending the Affordable Care Act to cover infant formula for survivors would be a game-changer, Tran says. "There is enough stress with having a newborn, navigating family transitions, and dealing with postpartum issues," she says. "Figuring out how to feed your newborn or pay for formula shouldn't be one of them."

Korin Miller is a writer specializing in general wellness, health, and lifestyle trends. Her work has appeared in Women's Health, Self, Health, Forbes, and more.

What I Learned About Loneliness After Visiting a Blue Zone

Jordan Shalhoub (she/they) — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 11:35:02 -0700

Loneliness is so back. Between the rise of "loneliness influencers" and constant discourse about the male loneliness epidemic, loneliness has become something of a hot topic. But that doesn't make it any easier to live with.

In 2024, I moved out of my ex-partner's home and into a studio in Los Angeles. It was my first time living alone in four years and my first time being really, truly single as an adult. Almost three years later, I'm still living alone. Still really, truly single.

Unfortunately, loneliness isn't just fodder for internet discourse - it's legitimately bad for our health. A 2023 advisory from the US Surgeon General found loneliness and isolation to be "more widespread than many of the other major health issues of our day, including smoking, diabetes, and obesity, and with comparable levels of risk to health and premature death."

This point was driven home for me when I got the opportunity to visit the Nicoya Peninsula in the Guanacaste region of Costa Rica - home to one of the world's five blue zones. These are areas of the world where people live significantly longer and healthier lives. The question is: why?

My trip started (alone) at the beautiful Westin Reserva Conchal by Marriott. After exploring the property, I met with a larger group for a boat safari in the Palo Verde National Park. There, our tour guide educated us on the local wildlife, the Guanacaste region, and the specific blue zone to which we were headed. This area is known as the Nicoya Peninsula, and it's currently home to 600 people over the age of 100.

Life is hard, but we don't have to go it (completely) alone.

According to our guide, this longevity can be attributed to a myriad of lifestyle factors, including eating habits and environmental resources. But every blue zone has its own secret ingredient - Nicoya's is its sense of community.

The Nicoya Peninsula is led by the "plan de vida" culture. Literally translated to mean "life plan," plan de vida tells us that we all have a unique sense of purpose. In Nicoya, plan de vida also serves the community, with relationships based on trust and care for your family, friends, and neighbors. This community-centered culture doesn't just mean greater shared resources - it's also created a calmer, less stressful way of life. People work hard, but they always know they aren't doing it alone. It takes a village, after all.

So many of us have been told to lower our stress levels at some point in our life (which . . . easier said than done). As Micaela Bayard, MD, previously explained to Popsugar, long-lasting stressors can contribute to inflammation, increasing the risk of heart disease, diabetes, digestive problems, and other chronic health conditions. That said, some stress is unavoidable. The solution? Maybe the village has something to do with it.

The Surgeon General's report writes that "higher social connection provides increased opportunities for and access to support, thus reducing the likelihood of perceiving challenging situations as stressful." This has certainly proven to be the case in Nicoya. Life is hard, but we don't have to go it (completely) alone.

At the end of my trip, I sat (alone again) by the water, now at W Costa Rica's gorgeous Playa Conchal, and reflected on what I learned. It's natural to feel lonely sometimes, especially as a single 30-something living by herself in a big city. But if I learned anything from Nicoya, it's that - even when loneliness does strike - we're never truly alone. It's our job to call upon those doorbell friends and show up for others the same way (if only to sit with them and do nothing on the couch).

My trip to Reserva Conchal made me realize that, in many ways, I've already built a village of my own, and it's made up of people who love, trust, and show up for each other. My heart and my calendar are both full, and that's actually a great thing for my stress levels and physical health. Who knows? If I keep it up, maybe I'll be celebrating my 100th birthday with them, too.

Jordan Shalhoub (she/they) is the supervising producer for Vox Media's lifetyle group and has been creating content and digital media since 2012. They started their career as a documentary editor and continued to report and create around real stories that impact real people - at the heart of their experience is a love of storytelling. She also brings to her work a personal passion for wellness through a fitness trainer certification, mental health advocacy, and championing LGBTQ+ rights (and joy!). Currently, they oversee the short-form video program, from strategy through execution, across editorial and sponsored content.

Welcome to Camp Breastie, an Adult Summer Camp Where Joy and Cancer Coexist

Chandler Plante — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:00:02 -0700

It's not the kind of club you want to join, but its members are certainly making the most of it. Picture a four-day summer camp style-summit where people from all walks of the breast and gynecologic cancer community come to rekindle their joy and forge lifelong connections. Participants travel across the country, sleep in cabins, and celebrate all weekend long at an event that sold out in less than 24 hours. It's a total vibe and also totally unique, helping survivors, pre-vivors, and caregivers alike find some much needed community. This is Camp Breastie.

It all started in 2017 when Paige More learned she carried the BRCA1 gene mutation. She debated whether to undergo a preventative double mastectomy, scouring the internet for support. "I was very scared and searching online for resources - or at least other people that had gone through this," More says. "I desperately needed somebody that I could look to." Unfortunately, she kept coming up short.

When More finally decided to go through with the surgery, she made a conscious choice to post about it on social media. At first, she just wanted to be someone people could look to - especially her younger sister, who had yet to do any genetic testing. But her videos quickly gained steam within the breast cancer community.

"When I started sharing my story, I ended up connecting with tens, then hundreds, then thousands of other people going through this. And it wasn't just pre-vivors like me - someone who had a preventative mastectomy - but [also] survivors and those with Stage 4 and caregivers," More says. Among the people she connected with were eventual Camp Breastie cofounders Allie Brumel, Trish Michelle, and Bri Majsiak.

Image Source: Courtesy of @fotobdy

"It was all very serendipitous how we all got connected. It was this domino effect," Majsiak says. The four saw how badly the community wanted to connect, and decided to create a space for that to happen. "Paige started organizing these events in New York, and so many people were resonating and coming [to the point] where we were constantly staying well past our allotted time," Majsiak says.

After seeing how successful these local meetups were, the group planned their first retreat: a weekend in the Poconos. At first it was just 10 pre-vivors (like More and Majsiak) and 10 survivors (like Brumel and Michelle). "We got ski tickets donated, and we just had the best time," Brumel says. "When we came home, there were just so many messages from other Breasties being like, 'When's the next retreat? How can I come?'"

"Hey, what if we rented out a summer camp?"

Realizing they had already outgrown their one-off ski retreat, the group decided to think bigger. They applied for nonprofit status in 2018 and did five retreats their first year . . . then 10 the next. Still, the waitlist continued to grow. "We were like, 'Hey, what if we rented out a summer camp?' - 500 people will fit," Brumel says. And just like that, Camp Breastie was born.

Back in 2019, Camp Breastie took a few weeks to sell out. This year, it reached full capacity in less than two hours. So what is it about this retreat in particular that feels so special? And if you're planning on attending, what can you expect from a weekend at Camp Breastie? Here's what to know.

Image Source: Courtesy of @fotobdy

What to Expect From Camp Breastie

With almost 200 programs to choose from, it's hard to describe a "typical weekend" at Camp Breastie. More calls it a "pick your own adventure." After you get off the bus and find your designated cabin, you can choose to attend discussion panels (hosted by breast cancer researchers and members of the community). Or maybe you'll start the morning off with a cold plunge, a swim in the lake, or some movement in the form of mobility training, pickleball, or even a Beyoncé-themed dance class.

"There are so many needs in our community," Michelle explains. "There are some folks that have just finished grueling treatment. They haven't been able to connect with their people, they don't look like they used to. They're a little self-conscious about their bodies, and they just need to connect and rest. And so the experience for them is maybe just coming to camp and sitting on an Adirondack chair by the lake and just having cool vibes and conversations with people."

"All of a sudden, people are embracing their scars."

Depending on your goals for the weekend (camp starts on Thursday and ends Sunday), some may find themselves among Stage 4 survivors and thrivers, jotting down notes about recent innovations, surgical interventions, and treatment options. Others might trade friendship bracelets, take an art class, or work quietly on a crochet project. The most important thing is that Camp Breastie will always meet you where you're at.

As with any large gathering, Brumel knows some might be worried about making friends or being the odd one out. "Some Breasties have never met another Breastie before, and there's this buildup and hype," she says. "You might worry, 'Oh, there might be cliques and people who know each other and have done this before,' but when you step off the bus, it's literally just a line of people hugging," Brumel says.

At the end of the weekend, Camp Breastie hosts a "Breastival" featuring a DJ, food trucks, multiple activations, and a pride parade (seeing as camp takes place in June). The Breastival has a different theme every year, and the Breasties come dressed accordingly. "All of a sudden, people are embracing their scars," Brumel says. The difference between how people arrive at Camp Breastie versus how they depart is staggering.

Camp Breastie Tips

If you're planning on attending Camp Breastie yourself, there are a few pro tips to keep in mind. "I experienced great, wonderful communities in my life, but Camp Breastie takes it to a whole new level," one Breastie wrote in the r/BreastCancerSurvivors Reddit thread. Their advice? Pack a few extra blankets and pillows if you have trouble sleeping.

"The beds are legit camp cabin beds, for kids," the commenter said. "And it was June, but it's in the mountains, so it gets pretty cold at night." If you're particular about your iced latte, you might also want to download a delivery app just in case. (Camp Breastie supplies food and coffee, but everyone has their specific preferences.)

A typical ticket to Camp Breastie costs $350, but the founders award 250 scholarship tickets to Breasties that identify as BIPOC, LGBTQ+, Stage 4, or in financial need. "Our dream is to one day have camp free for everyone, and multiple camps," Majsiak says.

What Do People Get From Camp Breastie?

Connection and joy are powerful, but so is learning how to navigate a complex medical journey. Michelle says that many Breasties tend to share information about their own healthcare experiences, including specific treatment regimens, medications, and doctor appointments, all of which can help other Breasties become better advocates. "So much of Camp is becoming an advocate, becoming a self-advocate, advocating for your own best care, [and] advocating for greater care for the entire community," Brumel says.

That said, the full impact of Camp Breastie goes far beyond concrete medical care. "What starts at Camp Breastie truly transcends into so many other parts of their lives," More says. After a stay at Camp Breastie, the change is visible. "People say in their post-event surveys that their friends or families or partners have told them, 'Oh my gosh, I got my partner back,' or 'I got my friend back,' or 'I got my sister back,' or 'I've seen a new side of you that I've never seen before,'" More says.

"It's not just about one weekend, it's not just in this space. It truly changes you as a person."

When a Pro Athlete Gets Breast Cancer at 29, Nothing Makes Sense

Alexis Jones — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:00:02 -0700

Jen Beattie is a footballer to her core. She's played for club teams like Bay FC, Manchester City, and Arsenal over the last decade. But her football career began with the Scottish Women's Premier League at just 15 years old. So when she was diagnosed with breast cancer in her late 20s, the thought of her soccer career coming to halt was "traumatic," Beattie tells Popsugar.

"I was 29 with no family history. It caught me completely out the blue," she says. Beattie was initially diagnosed after discovering a lump under her breast in October 2020. She told the Arsenal doctor at the time who referred her to a specialist for a biopsy and Beattie's stage 1 diagnosis was confirmed.

The entire experience felt foreign to her, Beattie says. "We're so accustomed to normal athlete injuries. You hurt your hamstring and you get an MRI, and you get told exactly what it is and how long it's going to take to rehab." With breast cancer, nothing felt intuitive. "I had no education," Beattie says. "I didn't really even know what a mammogram was or what the machine looked like or [what] a biopsy was," Beattie says.

Fortunately, her cancer care team allowed the Arsenal team doctor to attend appointments and treatments to take notes and relay the information to family, while her manager informed the team of Beattie's diagnosis.

"My teammates were absolutely incredible. They're the ones that got me through it. They're the ones that allowed me to talk about it when I needed to, or to just be Jen the footballer on different days. And for me, that was amazing mentally to just be able to still do my job for a large majority of the treatment," Beattie says.

The soccer star trained and played up until her lumpectomy, then she was out for about six weeks after surgery and had two weeks of radiation. "Getting outside every day and getting to run around and do my job helped in so many different ways, physically and mentally. It helped me just feel normal and escape from what I was going through."

"When you're going through something hard and your brain spirals to the worst-case scenario, it's so important to kind of keep it on track."

Beattie also started cancer-specific talk therapy during treatment and continued for six months afterward. Doing so helped her process some of the negative self-talk that would come up regarding success of the treatment, recurrence, etc. "To remain logical in that time was one of the most difficult things," Beattie says. The therapy she did was useful in keeping her thoughts grounded. "When you're going through something hard and your brain spirals to the worst-case scenario, it's so important to kind of keep it on track. So I found [therapy] to be massive," Beattie says.

Once Beattie got a grip on her own reality, she turned outward to see how she could help others cope and learn more about breast cancer and the possibilities of early-age diagnosis through organizations like Pink Ribbon Good.

"I've done a few walk and talks with patients that are going through treatment, where we go for walks outside to understand the health benefit of getting outdoors and walking and talking to your friends, and how much that can help offload some really tough stuff that's going on upstairs," Beattie says.

She's also been adamant about educating her teammates on the power of breast education. Prior to retiring, Beattie partnered with Sutter Health to bring a portable mammogram van and a team of nurses to give a breast health 101 talk for Bay FC players. "They got a tour of the mammogram van, and just saw that what the machine was like, so that nothing's overwhelming. So that if and when they ever do need to go for a check or a routine checkup or a mammogram, they know what to expect," Beattie says.

Ultimately, "it's all one big learning curve" due to gaps in the education system, especially around early-age breast cancer and how to spot the signs, Beattie says. "It's such an important piece that we need to get in schools and to kids from an early age, because we as adults still don't know enough."

A Surprise Pregnancy, a Metastatic Breast Cancer Diagnosis, and the Long Journey Ahead

Lanear Snell — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:00:02 -0700

I was in a hotel room in Reno when I found my first lump. I've always been a small-chested girl. So when I woke up one morning with breast pain and a lump in my right breast, I noticed. I got up from my hotel bed and went straight to the bathroom to check things out. It was like nothing I'd felt before. I immediately told my husband and he suggested I get it checked out when I got home from my work trip. At the time, I was working as a flight attendant.

The week I got home, I went to see my primary care doctor in McDonough, GA. I was told that the lump looked peculiar and that they wanted to send me elsewhere for a mammogram. It was during intake that I was asked to do a pregnancy test (as pregnancy and breastfeeding can make breast tissue denser, which interferes with a mammogram) - the pregnancy test came back positive. So they decided to do an ultrasound instead. I was surprised by the news - this was in November 2016 and I'd given birth to a son a year prior, in September - but I didn't even have time to process the pregnancy at the time. I was so focused on the potential cancer diagnosis lingering and eager to get the ultrasound results.

Nothing alarming showed up on the ultrasound. In fact, I was told that everything was fine and it was likely linked to >breastfeeding and hormone changes from the new pregnancy.

By December 2016, I was still feeling the same pain though. They did a second ultrasound, and again, no red flags. So I just went on thinking, "OK, everything is fine." But as the symptoms lingered I grew more concerned. In January 2017, I went to see my ob-gyn for a routine checkup and asked her to look at the lump. She agreed that it felt abnormal and referred me to a breast specialist.

I ended up getting a biopsy done on Valentine's Day 2017. The next day was a weekday; I'd transitioned to the airline's corporate department, and I was working in the office when I received a phone call. When I picked up the phone, a nurse, Jennifer, spoke to me. "Hi Mrs. Snell, I'm calling with your results from your biopsy. I wanted to let you know that it is cancer," I remember her telling me. She told me I'd need to come back into the office ASAP.

I'd never heard of a pregnant woman doing chemotherapy before. I knew I was resilient. But I didn't know about the little baby in my belly.

At that moment, all the air in my body just left. I walked outside in the middle of February. I didn't even think to grab a jacket. I just needed the fresh air. I remember walking around in the parking lot, trying to make sense of what I was being told, trying to bring myself back into my body. Everything after moved very quickly. All of a sudden I had a whole team of doctors: an OB, an oncologist, a surgeon, a specialist for the baby. Fortunately, I felt really supported and seen through it all.

Lanear Snell and her baby.

My healthcare team all came together and talked amongst themselves to develop a treatment plan that was as seamless as possible. Of course I had also become an honorary medical doctor overnight - googling everything. I had tons of questions, especially about the safety of the baby. I'd never heard of a pregnant woman doing chemotherapy before. I knew I was resilient. But I didn't know about the little baby in my belly. I asked if we could start treatment after the baby was born, but my care team feared that my cells were too aggressive. They assured me that starting chemo in the second trimester then stopping treatment in the third was the safest thing for the baby.

So I had four cycles of chemotherapy administered intravenously every three weeks during my second trimester. My mom and aunt went to every single appointment with me. Of course, I had my bad days experiencing side effects of both pregnancy and chemo (fatigue, hair loss, weight loss). But for the most part, I made it a point to stay positive and would accept nothing less from the people around me.

I would tell my friends and family, "No, I'm not OK. I wake up in the morning, I take a shower, and I fall apart. However, the moment I step outside of the shower, my day has to go on." I needed them to go on as normal, too, because I didn't want my baby to feel any sort of stress or uncertainty - not from me or anyone else around me. Fortunately, they all got the memo.

Unfortunately, at 20 weeks pregnant, I learned that the original tumor had shrunk but the cancer had metastasized to my spine (mid and lower back). Still, I held on to hope. For some reason, I'd convinced myself that the test was wrong and that the bone scans they were unable to do while I was pregnant would show something different. In my third trimester, I focused on healing and preparing my body for delivery, trying to gain weight and eating enough for me and the baby (something I'd been struggling to do while undergoing chemo).

In July 2017, I delivered my daughter via C-section. They removed my fallopian tubes that same day to prevent another pregnancy. I didn't want to have another baby, and my cancer was hormone-receptor- and estrogen-receptor-positive cancer, meaning it uses hormones like estrogen and progesterone to grow; both increase dramatically in the body during pregnancy. I remember feeling a sense of relief when it was all over. I had a healthy baby girl, 10 little fingers, 10 little toes. She was awesome. When we took her home from the hospital, I felt like I had reached the finish line. I delivered this healthy baby, and now I could fall apart.

But I couldn't. A few weeks later, I went in for some scans and learned that the cancer had spread to my jaw, sternum, spine, and tailbone. They weren't active, but they were present. So I was placed on oral chemotherapy medication and will continue to be on maintenance drugs for the foreseeable future. My journey with metastatic cancer is ongoing, and will be for the rest of my life, but it's taught me a lot about myself, including how strong I am.

If there's one piece of advice I'd give to others going through a metastatic cancer diagnosis, it's that you are still in control of your health. For me, that translated to the people I chose to surrounded myself with. I know that my emphasis on keeping my spirit high and the attitudes of those around me positive was crucial to my health outcome. I even found a support group for young women with cancer, Painted Pink, which I'm still involved in today.

In this next phase of my cancer journey, I've transitioned into a supportive role, as my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer after me. It's a mixture of emotions for me really. I'm surprised because she's older and I thought if she was going to get breast cancer that would have happened before me. I'm sad because I know the road that she's gonna have to go down. But also I feel a little validated - like my journey is not for naught. I went through this first. I did it. I know what to expect. I know the sadness that comes with it. Now, I can hold her hand because I've been here before.

- As told to Alexis Jones

"Mastectomy Moons" Are Helping Patients Find Peace Before Surgery

Chandler Plante — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 06:00:01 -0700

With certain diagnoses, grief is inevitable. How you cope with it is up to you. In 2012, Michele Kraus Bennett tested positive for the BRCA1 gene mutation, which indicates an increased risk for breast cancer. Nearly a decade later, after years of screenings, MRIs, mammograms, and blood tests, she finally scheduled her preventative prophylactic mastectomy for Dec. 1, 2021 . . . along with a road trip across the West Coast. "I was like, 'I'm going to go show my boobs a bunch of stuff,'" Kraus Bennett tells Popsugar. "'I'm going to go show my boobs Joshua Tree.'"

These kinds of "mastectomy moons" might seem a little unusual from the outside looking in. To some, the lead-up to a major surgery isn't the most opportune time for such an impromptu vacation. But for people like Kraus Bennett, there's peace in these moments of spontaneity - not to mention a unique opportunity to grieve, celebrate, and escape on one's own terms.

The trip was partially inspired by Kraus Bennett's actual honeymoon in 2020, which also involved a road trip. "We loved it so much, and at every moment in life, I always think: Is this an opportunity to do something really memorable and big?" After planning her mastectomy, Kraus Bennett had the same thought. "This is something I could just pass by, or I could really celebrate and mark this moment and do something exciting." Thus, her pre-surgery road trip was born.

Image Source: Courtesy of Michele Kraus Bennett

Kraus Bennett's trip started with a flight from Portland, OR, to Los Angeles. From there, she and her husband rented a sprinter van and started making their way across scenic camp sites along the West Coast. In various Instagram galleries documenting her journey, Kraus Bennett describes rugged rocks and blue skies, quiet mornings and peaceful hikes, soft sunrises and cold sand.

"As it turns out, I had cancer on the road trip, but I didn't know," she says. "We camped at this place called the Alabama Hills and we were all alone in the campground . . . it was like $8 a night. It was so pretty, and we would just go on walks in the evening." Throughout her trip, she also explored Death Valley, went horseback riding, visited Meow Wolf Omega Mart in Las Vegas, had breakfast in Palm Springs, saw the Hoover Dam, and spent time at Disneyland. "I took my bra off in the bathroom before Tower of Terror," she laughs. She looks back on the memories fondly.

Image Source: Courtesy of Michele Kraus Bennett

Kraus Bennett says the road trip allowed her to find some levity in a dark situation. But it also gave her space to come to terms with all the changes that were about to take place. "The other night, floating around in the pool, waving my arms around, I tried to feel the cold water on my chest, and feel how my breasts float, because that will change," she wrote in an Instagram post from Nov. 18. As a synchronized swimmer, the grief felt especially heavy. "I remember standing in the shower and being like, 'I'm not going to feel the water on my chest,'" she tells PS. "I have to soak this up."

"I went on this trip and really did something special."

When her operation finally came around, Kraus Bennett went in with a clear mind and a calm soul. "There's nothing else I can do to prepare. I feel really good about this decision," she thought to herself. She credits the mastectomy moon for helping her step into this mindset. "I made the choice and I went on this trip and really did something special," she says. "It was really nice to be celebrated and get to say goodbye."

Everyone is operating under different circumstances. But if you have the means to schedule a trip before a similar surgery or major life change, Kraus Bennett would definitely recommend it. "I think stuff like this is always a good idea," she says. Beyond all the fun memories, it also helped her approach a longer health journey in the best headspace possible.

"I felt like I was as majestic as the places we were visiting," she says. "It gave me so much more peace and happiness."

What No One Tells You About Sex After Breast Cancer

Molly Longman — Tue, 01 Sep 2026 05:55:02 -0700

On Dec. 2, 2015, Erin Burnett was two days out from her wedding and existing in the buzzy state of bliss that's reserved for people who are very much in love. That morning, as she was happily daydreaming in the shower, she noticed something was different about her left nipple. She took a closer look - it seemed to be inverted. She felt an immediate chill; the sudsy water suddenly felt like ice.

She called her doctor, who said Burnett could come in during her lunch break to get her breast checked out, just as a precaution.

After some testing, the doctor told Burnett to come back after her wedding day. She tried to put the experience out of her mind until after the ceremony. Just 12 days after tying the knot, at 28 years old, Burnett got the call. She had stage II, triple-positive, invasive ductal carcinoma. Her honeymoon would be cut short.

The diagnosis impacted Burnett's life in myriad ways - but a major factor was the impact on her sex life. "I had a brand new marriage, with no honeymoon phase," she remembers. "I used to joke around with my friends and say: 'You guys are having these crazy sex lives where someone pulls your hair, while my husband's picking my hair up off the ground.'"

Burnett underwent a double mastectomy and a hysterectomy, which induced what's known as medical menopause. "I didn't know until it happened that I was gonna have vaginal atrophy, vaginal dryness, pain with intercourse, lack of lubrication, and lack of libido [following the hysterectomy]," she says. She also faced emotional hurdles, especially as she coped with losing her breasts and went through painful attempts at reconstruction.

Throughout the treatment process, Burnett and her medical team were so focused on saving her life that her quality of life often took a backseat. In particular, the quality of her sex life was not top of mind for her or her providers.

This is a common refrain from cancer survivors, who say that the medical establishment tends to leave out or breeze through conversations about the ways cancer can impact your sexual health, especially because they're rightfully so laser-focused on keeping you alive. But this can have serious ramifications for people's sexual health, mental health, and relationships, says Ericka Hart, MEd, a sex educator and breast cancer survivor. "They're usually not concerned about the ways that you are gonna experience pleasure in the future, they just want to fix you - and in their mind, cancer is the issue they're fixing," they say.

This often puts the onus on patients to bring up questions about how their diagnosis and treatment will affect their sexual health.

Anna Crollman, a 37-year-old breast cancer survivor from North Carolina, remembers feeling incredibly nervous about asking her provider about the sexual side effects, such as painful intercourse, she was experiencing during and after her treatment. "I like to call it the 'doorknob question' that you squeeze in right when they're about to leave and their hand's almost on the door," she says. "You say: 'Hey, just one more thing.'"

But if sexual health is brought up earlier and more often by providers, it's not only easier for patients to discuss their issues when they're ready to do so, but also for them to find more satisfaction with sex in the long run - and to feel less alone, says Don S. Dizon, MD.

It's common, especially for women and nonbinary people, to blame themselves for sexual health issues and feel they have to suffer alone. "Most of the people I see feel like they're the only ones going through this," he says. "When I tell a person, 'This is really common,' there's a weight lifted off their shoulders because [until then,] they think they've done something wrong."

But patients shouldn't be deterred from seeking information about improving their sexual health, despite cancer, and they shouldn't have to work up extra courage to get answers. As Dr. Dizon puts it: "Everyone deserves a sex life."

Experts Featured in This Article

Ericka Hart, MEd, is a sex educator, breast cancer survivor, and author of "Nasty Work."

Don S. Dizon, MD, is a professor of medicine at Brown University and director of the Sexual Health First Responders Clinic at Lifespan Cancer Institute.

Emily Nagoski, PhD, is a sex educator and author of "Come as You Are" and "Come Together".

The Physical Impacts Cancer Can Have on Sex

Breast cancer treatments can dampen physical desire in several ways. Breasts are an erogenous organ, Dr. Dizon says, and oftentimes a mastectomy is required as part of treatment. "The loss of breast-specific sensuality is something everyone will go through to some degree," he says. "The process of naming that is really important, because people don't consciously think of the breast as a sexual organ, and it is."

Meanwhile, for those with hormone-positive breast cancer, doctors often prescribe drugs called aromatase inhibitors that lower estrogen levels, causing medically induced menopause. "These notoriously have a negative effect on sexuality, whether it's vaginal dryness, painful activities, or loss of desire," Dr. Dizon says. "Chemotherapy can also harm body image, because people gain a lot of weight, and it can cause neuropathy and physical side effects like nausea and diarrhea."

As patients know, these physical impacts can take a real toll.

Shonté Drakeford, a nurse practitioner and patient advocate in Maryland, was diagnosed with stage four metastatic breast cancer in 2015, after being dismissed by providers for six years when she presented with symptoms. Drakeford says that before her diagnosis, her sex life with her high school sweetheart was "amazing."

For the first two years of treatment, she had no major sexual side effects, though she had to be careful about what positions she took part in, as the cancer had spread to her lungs, lymph nodes, ribs, spine, and left hip. "I asked my doctor what I could do that wouldn't harm me, physically, because I was fragile," she remembers. "He got all red and was embarrassed to answer."

About three years into treatment, Drakeford noticed that her libido had lessened, and she was experiencing vaginal dryness. "Even though, mentally, I wanted to [have sex], my mind and vagina didn't connect," she says. "It was like a slow transition into a menopausal state." This was due to her treatments, which she couldn't stop. "I'll be on treatment forever; this is lifelong for me," she says. "I wish they had Viagra for women."

Drakeford's doctors told her that vaginal estrogen therapy - which some menopausal people use to help with some sexual side effects - wasn't an option for her; her cancer was hormone-positive, so it essentially fed on hormones like estrogen. "It's all about safety," Drakeford says. "Am I willing to risk my health for sexual satisfaction?"

Cancer Can Cause Mental Health Barriers to Satisfying Sex, Too

Beyond these physical questions, mental hurdles are also prevalent amid cancer treatments. Many of us have ideas about what sex "should" look like, and those are challenged by a life-changing diagnosis like cancer, says Emily Nagoski, PhD, a sex educator.

Hart says that they felt "disconnected from their body" after their cancer diagnosis, something that they believe to be common for other survivors, but that looks different for everyone. As they were being treated for breast cancer in 2014, they struggled with how their body was constantly being touched, especially by white medical staff. Hart, who is Black, found that this challenged their understanding of bodily autonomy and lead to them distancing themself from their romantic partner, who was white. "I didn't want a white person to touch me sexually," they remember.

Hart says that something else shifted following their mastectomy: they felt like people could no longer see them as a whole person - they only saw Hart's illness. At one point in their healing process, Hart went topless in public, baring their double mastectomy scars to end "the lack of Black, brown, LGBTQIA+ representations and visibility in breast cancer awareness." As important as this messaging was, Hart felt "de-sexualized" by some of the responses their display elicited. "People would see my topless pictures and respond: 'Oh my God, you're so inspiring,'" they say. "But if anybody with nipples went topless on the internet, that would not be the response."

This is a commonly felt sentiment among breast cancer patients - they feel society begins to see them only as patients, rather than sexual beings. Hart points out that you rarely see sex scenes with cancer patients in the media. FWIW, the only one I could think of was in "Desperate Housewives," which involved a somewhat superficial plot about Tom feeling uncomfortable having sex with Lynette when she wasn't wearing her wig, and Lynette fearing it meant he was no longer attracted to her. (This is a real fear among patients, though Dr. Nagoski notes: "In a great relationship, we're attracted to the human being we chose to be with, not to the body parts of that human. It's normal to have feelings about changes to our bodies and our partners' bodies, of course, but a strong relationship adapts to those changes with love and trust.")

Meanwhile, Crollman, who was diagnosed with cancer at 27, adds that the mental barriers to sex after cancer were "the hardest part." "The pain, of course, is physically uncomfortable, but even though my partner and I tried so hard to stay in open communication, the reality was, we went through a very, very dry spell," she says. "I was feeling really lost, mentally. I went through a deep depression, and I was seeing a therapist to cope because I really didn't feel comfortable in my body." After having a double mastectomy, Crollman felt "vulnerable" being in front of someone else while she was still "struggling to come to terms with the body that I had."

Plus, not being intimate for a period due to these understandable challenges led to "more physical triggers and trauma around that experience - around the fear of it, around the pain that was related to it because of the side effects," Crollman remembers. "So it was kind of this multileveled, emotional, psychological challenge."

Finding Pleasure Again Post-Diagnosis

The physical and emotional stressors surrounding sex are very real, but reframing can help cancer patients to work through them. "The stakes around treatment certainly may be high, but the stakes around sex are not" - or at least, they don't have to be, Dr. Nagoski says.

Although our culture tells us we can somehow "fail" sexually, especially "if we don't perform according to some external, bullshit standard, the reality is there is nothing to lose, there is no way to fail," Dr. Nagoski says. "We only imagine we're doing it 'wrong' when we compare our experiences to some bogus cultural script of what sex 'should' be like - a script that was always irrelevant to our lives, but after a cancer diagnosis is just an absurd, pointless, and even cruel standard against which to assess our sexual connections. There is nothing at stake with sex; you have nothing to lose, only pleasure and connection to gain."

Pleasure can look different to different people, and sex is just one piece of it. In order to maximize satisfaction for all parties involved, Dr. Nagoski says you first need to get on the same page as your partner - and that means getting curious. "If your partner wants sex, ask each other these important questions: What is it that you want, when you want sex with each other? And what is it that you don't want? When don't you want sex with each other? And, perhaps most importantly, what kind of sex is worth having - as in, what makes sex worth not spending that time watching 'Parks & Recreation'?"

Also, "You could decide to take all sex entirely off the table," Dr. Nagoski says. "That's a legitimate choice." Hart adds that some couples may decide to open up their relationship amid cancer.

However, many people with cancer do want to try to explore sex and pleasure again, whatever that looks like for them. But because there are so few good resources out there and so much stigma around the topic, they may do so with varying levels of success.

Hart, for example, discovered that kink and BDSM was a sexual space of healing for them. "After being poked and prodded and having surgeries and chemotherapy literally once a week with a giant needle, I wanted to go into spaces where I could reclaim that pain," they say. "So doing things like impact play - being consensually spanked and hit - I could reclaim the pain after years of feeling like I didn't have a choice of opting into it."

Hart also recommends working with a sex therapist to find pleasure again, which may include finding ways to incorporate chest play after a mastectomy, whether you still have nipples or not. Dr. Nagoski recommends the book "Better Sex Through Mindfulness" by Lori Brotto, who specializes in sexual health interventions for those with cancer and for survivors of sexual trauma.

Dr. Dizon adds that some healthcare providers might be more comfortable pointing their patients to resources rather than giving them actual advice about their sex lives, so asking your doctor if they have recommendations for something to read or a support network you could join might be a smart tactic for finding the support you seek.

Drakeford says she hasn't been shy about asking for resources but still hasn't felt satisfied with the level of pleasure she's experienced since her diagnosis. She's tried vaginal moisturizers, lube, and sex toys and hasn't seen much success. "I even tried that slippery elm herb - it did nothing. Not a thing!" Drakeford says. "I've been going on nine years without things improving. I hope researchers can get on this and find something that actually works for people like me . . . even if it's not during my lifetime."

Burnett, for her part, has tried to be intentional about pleasure from the very beginning - though it hasn't been easy.

While she was undergoing chemo, Burnett says, she and her partner scheduled sex around treatments. "The first couple of days after chemo, your body's pretty toxic, so you aren't going to be intimate," she says. "Then seven to 10 days after is when you're at your sickest. So for us, it was usually around that two-week mark that we'd schedule time to be intimate, before the next round."

Since going into medical menopause, Burnett's tried multiple tactics to make sex post-breast-cancer more pleasurable with her partner, including lubes, moisturizers, and laser therapy. (Dr. Dizon notes it's important for those with breast cancer to find options that have specifically been studied in people with breast cancer, not the general population.) She also had to mentally get used to the changes in her breasts - though getting a mastectomy scar tattoo helped her regain some confidence, both in general and in the bedroom.

Although Burnett didn't get the honeymoon phase she'd always dreamed about, she did learn quickly that she'd found a partner who'd keep every word of his vows. "There is something really intimate about someone who can be there for you and hold your hair back as you're throwing up, and pick it up as it's falling out," she adds, nodding to her old joke about her friends having their hair pulled.

The couple's 10-year anniversary is coming up next year, and they're planning to finally take that honeymoon they never got. "It'll be a different kind of honeymoon, because my body is just different from most other 36-year-olds out there. But it will also be a celebration of surviving 10 years."

Molly Longman is a freelance journalist who loves to tell stories at the intersection of health and politics.

Paris Hilton Gets Candid About Embracing Her ADHD: "I See It as My Inner Sparkle"

Paris Hilton — Mon, 24 Aug 2026 11:15:03 -0700

Being in school was always difficult for me. No matter how hard I tried, I was constantly in trouble for not getting good grades and not being able to remember things. Because there aren't many studies done on women, people see ADHD as the boy in school who can't sit still in class. But ADHD is different for everyone. For girls, you can be successful and ambitious and high functioning, but have a lot of turmoil on the inside. It can be very overwhelming and you always have this voice in the back of your mind telling you you're not good enough. You internalize the labels that adults and teachers put on you. I constantly felt misunderstood and underestimated.

In school, I always daydreamed. If something was boring, I could not pay attention. But for subjects I loved, like art or music or drama, I really excelled because I could hyper-focus on them. Instead of getting punished in school, I wish my teachers had spoken with me or asked different questions. It's hard being a kid and not having anyone to support you. I feel like the systems of school were not built for minds like ours. Even today, it's getting better, but there's still so much work to be done.

In my 20s, people started talking more about ADHD. My friends were getting diagnosed, and I started learning more about it. When I spoke to a doctor and got diagnosed myself, it was such a relief to finally know that there was nothing wrong with me. It's just the way my brain works.

"I wouldn't be the entrepreneur I am today without my ADHD."

I've always been a risk-taker, an innovator - doing things first. I feel like that's why I've been a pioneer in so many different areas, from reality TV to becoming the first influencer . . . things that were really ahead of my time. I wouldn't be the entrepreneur I am today without my ADHD. I see it as my inner sparkle.

What made the biggest difference in my ADHD was speaking to my doctor, getting prescribed JORNAY PM, and finding a treatment plan that worked for me. Now, I can take my medication at night and it starts working when my day starts, which has been such a meaningful change. I can focus on my kids and what really matters to me in life, rather than feeling chaotic in the morning.

In school, my ADHD was more about not being able to focus. But now - as a mom and an entrepreneur – there are definitely a lot more responsibilities. It's important that I'm organized for back to school, especially with getting the kids ready and setting everything up the night before.

My tips are to find a treatment plan that works for you, speak with your doctor, and put systems in place that help you. Like having calendars and certain places where you can put your phone or your house keys so you're not losing things. I have notepads all over the house in every room, so I can write down ideas that come to my mind. Take time in the mornings to center yourself and breathe. When it gets really overwhelming, focus on the beautiful things in your life and your family. Everyone's life is different, but having those tools is really important.

I want to give people hope and inspire them to follow their dreams. Don't be too hard on yourself and know that you're not alone. There's nothing wrong with you - it's just the way your mind works.

- As told to Chandler Plante

I Tested Brain-Adaptive Earbuds to See If They Could Improve My Sleep

Chandler Plante — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 15:45:02 -0700

I don't play about my sleep. My bedtime routine begins promptly at 9 p.m., at which point I make my way over to my red light mask, magnesium pillow spray, and a perfectly-curated playlist of ASMR. Up until now, I've solely relied on my Oura ring to see how well I slept the night before (don't talk to me if my readiness score is below an 80). But when I heard about a pair of brain-adaptive earbuds that could actually improve my sleep quality, I knew I had to try them for myself.

Most similar wearable devices track sleep by measuring cardiovascular changes via light sensors. This method is known as photoplethysmography (PPG). NextSense Smartbuds ($299, originally $349), on the other hand, use electroencephalography (EEG) which records electrical activity in the brain. "As you calm down and eventually fall asleep, your dominant brainwaves literally get slower," says NextSense's head of product Caitlin Shure, MA, PhD. "We are tapping into those brain signals directly, which are also the same kind of signals that are being looked at if you get a sleep study in the lab."

In NextSense's case, this looks like earbuds with tiny sensors monitoring brainwaves. But the buds also claim to deliver real-time stimulation to enhance deep sleep (more on that later). Intrigued, I tested the Smartbuds to see if they really could improve my sleep . . . and possibly earn a permanent spot in my top-tier nighttime routine. Here's how it went.

My Smartbuds Experience

Initially, I had some reservations about wearing earbuds to sleep. Would they be uncomfortable and cause me to toss and turn? In my experience . . . not really. Although the earbuds are definitely more comfortable for back and belly sleepers, I also wore them on my side. (Pro tip: you can choose to wear only one earbud if it's more comfortable for you.)

One of the first tips Dr. Shure gave me was to carve out time for onboarding. It's imperative that the Smartbuds fit your ears properly (they come with different sized attachments) so that the sensors have a strong signal to your brain. Somehow, I still managed to mess this up. My first night with the earbuds, I wore a size too big, and the app promptly advised me to try a smaller size in the morning. After finding my right fit, I got a look into my slow waves - the deep pulses of electrical activity associated with restorative processes.

To break it down, a night with more slow-wave activity means increased feelings of restoration and better cognitive performance. So basically, "everything that you would associate with a really good night of rest," Dr. Shure says. Truthfully, I had never considered this element of my sleep before. But as I thought back to all the times I felt unrefreshed despite getting eight hours of sleep, it started to click. The Smartbuds showed me my slow wave count, total wakes, and overall sleep efficiency every night, and as it turns out, I was getting way less restorative sleep than I previously thought.

"It's very subtle, it doesn't wake you up."

As you prepare for sleep, you can use the Smartbuds to unwind with a meditation or box breathing exercise. Or, for those of us who are already sufficiently unwound (hi, it's me), you can jump straight into a soft hum of pink noise or relaxing rain sounds. Once you drift off, the buds utilize a method called slow wave enhancement to actually upgrade your sleep. They do this by employing targeted pink noise while you're unconscious, gently nudging your brain waves into a more restorative pattern.

"The wearables that have been popular for the past decade have really banked on the fact that your primary use of them is to look at the data . . . but then it comes back on you to improve your situation," Dr. Shure says. With slow wave enhancement, your earbuds are doing some of the work for you. "This happens when you're unconscious," Dr. Shure explains. "It's very subtle, it doesn't wake you up." And after wearing the earbuds for myself, I agree.

Smartbuds Takeaways

It's still too early for me to say whether the slow-wave enhancement definitively improved my sleep. But knowledge is power, and the insights I gleaned from the Smartbuds certainly helped me iron out my routine, from giving myself permission to hit the hay a little earlier, to identifying factors that may have affected my deep sleep waves each night (for better or for worse).

"We're seeing about half of our users reporting improvements in, yes, sleep quality, but also mood and energy," Dr. Shure says. "So not just the sleep itself, but the next day benefits that you would hope to see if your sleep is better." Indeed, in trying the Smartbuds for myself, I saw my Oura sleep score hit "above average" numbers, which was a huge win for me.

If you're not someone who can sleep with something in your ears, Smartbuds also have settings for restorative practices like meditation and focus. But all said, I'll definitely be continuing my evening earbud experiment for smarter, sleepier nights.

20 Years Later, I Still Need Body Positivity

CeCe Olisa — Tue, 11 Aug 2026 05:45:03 -0700

This story is part of our Aughts Effect package, which celebrates 20 years of Popsugar - and enduring culture. Read all the stories here.

It was 1999. I was watching MTV when I saw exactly what I wanted to copy: Mariah Carey in her "Heartbreaker" video in those low-rise jeans, the waistband cut clean off. I ran to my closet and cut the waistband off my own jeans, feeling like I'd cracked some fashion code. But I couldn't bring myself to show my belly at school, so I put a longer shirt over them anyway, hiding everything.

Being a plus-size teenager in the early 2000s taught me that girls with bodies like mine didn't get the happy ending. Not the guy, not the dream wardrobe, not visibility in the glossy version of adulthood I watched on big and small screens. Every rejection, every uninvited comment, every closed door became proof that my weight made me unworthy. Half the racks I wanted to shop didn't carry my size, which felt less like an inventory problem and more like the world telling me exactly where I didn't belong.

That anxiety did not stay in one place. It got dressed with me every morning and followed me from high school into college. Then, around 2006, body positivity found me one night in a downtown Manhattan nightclub, when a mutual friend invited me to a spot where plus-size women weren't the exception in the room, they were the room. I found out later that "BBW clubs" like it existed in major cities all over the country. In those clubs, I wasn't any smaller, but I felt like my weight just stopped being a liability. I wondered, genuinely, what it would feel like to carry that mindset outside those four walls and into the rest of my life. The first time I tested it was a halter dress at a party, no cover up in the bag as backup, which felt less like fashion and more like showing up somewhere without your keys.

Here I am at the 2006 "BBW club" that changed everything. Image Source: Courtesy of CeCe Olisa

While the BBW parties ultimately weren't my scene, an inclusive, body-positive space like that changed everything for me. I began to explore radical ideas like not covering or hiding my body, and I started to write about it on my website.

Women started leaving comments. Then emails. Then their own stories, unprompted, like they'd been waiting for someone to go first. I didn't realize I wasn't alone until women started telling me they felt the same way. I hadn't been writing into the void. I'd been writing into a room full of people I just hadn't met yet.

Those essays became conversations. Those conversations became friendships. Those friendships became a community I could actually stand inside of. In 2015, that community became The Curvy Con, a plus size fashion convention during New York Fashion Week. One weekend a year, your body stopped being a liability and became the standard. That's the culture that gave me new language for myself. "Big" girl became "plus size" girl, which felt more fashion mag than family reunion, and I said it like a fact I was proud of, because I was.

I was more proud of my body than I had ever been. I built a whole life around the idea that I shouldn't wait on my weight to live the life I wanted, and for a while everything aligned: my confidence, the culture, even the clothing racks, which had finally started carrying my size without making me hunt for it in a back corner.

While I embraced my body, I also told myself that health was a practice, not a pant size, and wellness never needed a smaller number to count, so I made fitness and healthy living a priority without weight loss as a goal.

My first bikini photo, showing arms, legs, and tummy, is still the one I'd choose first if I could only keep one from my whole body-positive awakening. It was taken right before the world shut down for the pandemic.

My favorite bikini pic. Image Source: Courtesy of CeCe Olisa

That confidence carried me through the pandemic mostly intact. The world outside my apartment was suddenly talking about health the way I'd been talking about it for years, out loud, without shame, like it belonged to everyone. My knees did not fare as well.

In 2023, my doctor brought up GLP-1s like he was recommending a restaurant. "You should really try these," he said.

I was still fully on my body-positive soapbox, thinking about identity and community and what it would mean to trade being a plus-size girl living her best life for being an obesity patient seeking treatment so she could continue to live her best life. Those felt like two different women to me. It took longer than I'd like to admit to understand that I am not obese. I have obesity. One is an identity. The other is a diagnosis I could actually treat without losing my body-positive values. I told my doctor I wasn't sure. He kept a sample pen at his office for weeks with my name on it. I know this because I refused to pick it up for weeks.

What changed my mind wasn't the mirror. It was a number. When I learned that every pound you lose takes four pounds of pressure off your knees, I picked up the pen from my doctor. The healthy habits I had built as an act of love for my plus-size body, and the medication, turned out to be a great combination for my well-being and longevity.

Weeks later, I ran for a subway car the way I hadn't run for anything in years, and stood on the platform a little stunned that my own knees would let me do something like that.

My weight had started with a three for most of my life, then a two. Now I'm closing in on what some of us call Onederland, 199 pounds, the place where the number in front finally drops below two. You would think this is the part where my desire to show my body gets louder. It's the opposite. Loose skin has me fighting the urge to cover again, except this time I have a body-positive mindset protecting my confidence.

Nobody warns you that when it comes to loving your body, there isn't a finish line, just new ways to keep loving it through the transition.

Image Source: Courtesy of CeCe Olisa

In high school, I thought a happy ending meant low cut jeans and a flat tummy. In my twenties, it meant a liberated body and finally being seen. Today, it means loving myself into longevity so I can enjoy the life body positivity taught me I already deserved.

I write about my GLP-1 journey publicly because I'm hopeful that those of us who lived through the body positivity era won't look back on it as a failure now that some of our bodies are changing again. I'd rather we carry it forward, into whatever phase our bodies move through next, the way I'm trying to carry mine into my loose skin era.

Somehow we've still ended up with shame on both sides of this conversation: some women fearing plus size erasure, others staying quiet about a treatment they may need because they're afraid of being judged by a community that means everything to them. Neither kind of shame is fair, and neither deserves to win.

What gives me real hope is smaller than any of that. It's the questions women in my own community ask me lately, not how to hide something, but which leggings actually hold up, which shoes are worth buying for a longer walk. That shift, toward longevity, toward simply being around longer, might be the best happy ending any of us could ask for. Girls with bodies like mine do get the happy ending. It just took me 20 years to understand the ending was never about the size of the body. It was about a life well lived.

CeCe Olisa is a trailblazing voice in inclusive health and beauty, dedicated to inspiring women to embrace self-care with confidence. As a certified fitness instructor and the founder of Cocoa by CeCe, she blends personal experience with expert insight to make health and beauty joyful, accessible, and empowering.

Gen Z Providers Are Rewriting the Rules of Medicine

Alexis Jones — Fri, 24 Jul 2026 06:00:02 -0700

Tiffany Nguyen isn't a regular healthcare provider, she's a cool one. With a tooth gem on her top left incisor and vibrant acrylic nails, she's approaching the world of healthcare from a wildly authentic perspective - in true Gen Z fashion. Nguyen has 24.8K followers on TikTok, where she's built a community as "your pre-med older sister" and shares real-talk tips about becoming a physician assistant.

She's also part of the latest Gen Z healthcare providers entering the workforce and reshaping what it means to hold a career in this field. They're not chasing the "Grey's Anatomy" fantasy of a provider who lives at the hospital and has no personality outside of their white coat. Like most generations, this one has its stereotypes, but these young healthcare workers are breaking them daily, embracing this role with authenticity, balance, and a life beyond the hospital. Lucky for us, we get to watch them document it all as they show us what it means to build a career in medicine without leaving themselves or their patients behind.

The Stories They Carry

Nguyen's online persona is bold and bubbly, infused with Gen Z humor. But it only tells part of her story. At 24 years old, the PA-in-training documents her daily life on social media while carrying the weight of her family's experiences with her.

Nguyen was raised in a first-generation Vietnamese immigrant household with her mom and grandma, neither of whom finished formal education. "I have seen what it's like to not be represented in healthcare," Nguyen says.

"I want to be the PA who represents the Asian American, low-income, non-English speaking identities."

"My grandma doesn't even know how to read. My mom didn't even finish high school. . . . I haven't seen any medical provider that looks like me in Ohio since I've grown up and to be taken care of [by] medical providers who don't represent or look like you and who don't understand the language that your whole family speaks . . . it's isolating."

Nguyen has been the de facto medical advocate of the family since age 10, often translating complex diagnoses, treatments, and care plans. It's what led her to volunteer at the Asian Free Health Clinic during her time at Ohio State University and ultimately to pursue a career in medicine at the University of Southern California.

@firstgenpa
#paschool #medstudent #premed #medtok #nursingstudent
♬ original sound - TIFFANY NGUYEN, PA-S :D

"I want to be the PA who represents the Asian American, low-income, non-English speaking identities," Nguyen says. "And I know that when I speak, I carry my family and my patients' voices with me."

When asked if the weight of that responsibility ever feels overwhelming, she responds immediately: "I'm constantly driven by the quiet power of representation." But that sense of responsibility was even more resonant when Nguyen became a patient herself after suffering a hemorrhagic stroke (brain rupture) in April. The incident left her temporarily immobile and unable to speak. Her biggest concern during recovery? Money. "My mind was not fully conscious in the ICU right after the brain surgeries that I had, but it was conscious enough to be worried about how much is this going to cost?" she says. "As a first-generation, low-income student, I'm constantly calculating . . . even healing felt like a luxury that I could not afford, and so I carry that with me wherever I go."

Nguyen's story challenges some of Gen Z's most common stereotypes of being lazy, self-absorbed, or fragile. Aishwarya Addepalli, a 27-year-old second-year resident, views her generation as the complete opposite.

"They think that you're young and not necessarily as disciplined or mature," she says. "But I think it's actually the other way around." She considers her generation to be deeply self-aware, shaped by the context around them, and driven by a strong sense of purpose.

A Generation That Refuses to Choose

Gen Z is one of the most resilient generations, Addepalli says. "We've gone through a lot" - from the era of 24/7 social media access to the educational and social disruptions of the COVID-19 pandemic. "We've gone through so much change in the world during our lifespans," Addepalli adds.

"We still deeply care about people, patients, but we're also more intentional about surviving and taking care of ourselves."

It was just six years ago that Addepalli was in her junior year of college, quarantined at home and doing Zoom interviews for medical school. That's when she started making dance content like the rest of us, lonely and confined. Only hers was good - and it went viral. One of her most popular videos - a Bharatanatyam-style combination to Doja Cat's "Woman" - garnered more than 18 million views, 2.7 million likes on TikTok, and a Spotify cover image. But Addepalli didn't start dancing on social media for recognition. She's been dancing Bharatanatyam since she was a kid, and it has always served as a mental health resource, especially now as she's in residency as an anesthesiologist.

"Dance was always an outlet for stress, for physical health, and it was honestly very meditative as well. I talked about this even when interviewing for medical school," she tells Popsugar.

@aishuadd
the duality of being a dancer girlie in medicine #chalant #telugu #doctor #medicine
♬ original sound - Playboi Teluguabbayi

That's the thing about being a Gen Z doctor-slash-creator: unlike generations past, they're unafraid to bring their whole selves to work and prioritize who they are outside of the job. "I try not to think of it as better or worse, we're just different as a generation," Addepalli says.

"We still deeply care about people, patients, but we're also more intentional about surviving and taking care of ourselves," she adds. In other words, "instead of making our career our entire life and personality, we use other aspects of our lives to help us become better at our careers."

Take Erica Ogwumike, a 28-year-old resident physician, as an example. Although she pursued medicine, athletics has always been central to her life - she comes from a family of elite athletes, including WNBA standouts Chiney and Nneka Ogwumike - and she didn't give that up to be a dermatologist. In fact, Ogwumike majored in health sciences, policy studies, and Spanish while pre-med and playing Division I college basketball; competed in the Tokyo Olympics while in medical school; and has been a content creator documenting it all since 2018 with 93.5K followers on TikTok today.

"In my generation, it was definitely emphasized to be very multidimensional and to not limit your interest just because you want to be a doctor," Ogwumike says.

And while Ogwumike may be on the extreme side of multidimensionality, her colleagues aren't too far behind. "You'll have doctors who were ballet majors, dance majors, art history," she says. "And yes, that did exist before, but I think now it's becoming way more the norm."

@ericathemd
def due for our quarterly FaceTime chats, yall I’m about to be half way done w residency!!! nuts #dermresidency #updates #sephorahaul #doctor #skincare
♬ original sound - Erica The MD

Happy Provider, Healthier System

This work-life-passion balance Ogwumike alludes to is one of Gen Z's biggest strengths. It's a side effect of growing up in a time "where wellness was prioritized," she says. "I can't think of a time in college or high school where wellness wasn't a part of our curriculum and emphasized."

In generations past, Ogwumike says healthcare providers went above and beyond to live up to the term "resident," working round-the-clock to meet the 19th-century expectations of the always-on provider. For Ogwumike's generation, things are much different.

Not only are there work-hour rules to prevent overworking, but she and her colleagues just don't subscribe to the old mentality. And that doesn't make them any less qualified to do the job. In fact, conversations with these three providers suggests the opposite: drawing clear boundaries between work and the rest of your life doesn't signal a lack of commitment - it's what allows them to show up fully for their patients. For anyone who has felt dismissed by a healthcare provider, that couldn't be more important.

"I want to help my patients to the best of my ability, but at the same time, I know I can't help them if I don't take care of myself," Ogwumike says.

In other words, this generation of healthcare providers is all-in on well-being - not just for their patients, but for themselves. They refuse to sacrifice identity, passion, or health for this job. Instead, they use those three pillars to make themselves even more empathetic, capable, and well-rounded providers. Welcome to the Gen Z era of healthcare. Any one else excited to be here?

Alexis Jones is the section lead of the health and fitness verticals at Popsugar, overseeing coverage across the website, social media, and newsletters. In her seven-plus years of editorial experience, Alexis has developed passions for and expertise in mental health, women's health and fitness, racial and ethnic disparities in healthcare, and chronic conditions. Prior to joining PS, she was the senior editor at Health magazine. Her other bylines can be found at Women's Health, Prevention, Marie Claire, and more.

Why We're All Sweating on Antidepressants

Ayana Herndon — Mon, 13 Jul 2026 12:15:01 -0700

This summer, I expected to spend my time lounging at the beach, enjoying rooftop parties, and taking long walks in nature. But just a month into the season, the only thing I'm doing a lot of is sweating. According to TikTok, my antidepressant is to blame: creators have been speaking up for weeks about their sweaty summer on selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs), validating and normalizing others who find themselves suddenly overwhelmingly hot.

"Being mentally ill for the summer is not for the weak. I'm legitimately in hell, dying. How are you people on SSRIs not passing out or keeping cold?" one TikTok user said in a June post. The post has over 90,000 likes and 3,000 comments, including "My underwear gets drenched from how much I sweat" and "On Zoloft, the night sweats are the worst thing to ever happen to me."

Another post on the app from the same month with the headline, "pov: it's 95°F out, and you're on lexapro" featured the caption, "I take 3 showers a day in the summer." Comments under the post were similarly detailing the same hot experience, from "Yes dude, I feel like I'm boiling inside," to "The overheating is literally insane !!!"

To be honest, I've never felt more validated. In 2023, the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) reported an estimated 11.4 percent of people over the age of 18 in the U.S. took some form of antidepressants. But what's the science behind all of the sweating? According to psychiatrists, just because you're hot and taking SSRIs doesn't mean the antidepressants are to blame: heat intolerance isn't a direct side effect of taking SSRIs. But a certain hormone may be at fault. Here's what the experts had to say.

Experts Featured in This Article

Agnes K. Simone, DO, is a California-based psychiatrist, the founder of Olea Women's Health, a boutique women's health practice, and the founder of Psych Practice Co., a consulting company for psychiatrists.

Brook Choulet, is an Arizona-based psychiatrist who specializes in sports psychiatry and the founder of Choulet Performance Psychiatry.

Can Antidepressants Make You Sweat More?

I've been taking the SSRI Zoloft since 2023. When initially asked what the biggest side effect of the medication was, my answer used to be, "You stay alive." In the early stages of taking the antidepressant, I was just thankful the medication made me feel like myself again, effectively treating my depression. But this summer, I'm experiencing intense sweating and feeling way hotter than usual.

"[SSRIs] can interfere with your hypothalamic thermoregulation (the body's thermostat). But it's not typical to have significant heat intolerance with SSRIs," says Brook Choulet, MD, a psychiatrist specializing in sports.

While antidepressants may not directly cause heat intolerance, they can increase serotonin in the body - and serotonin can affect the body's ability to regulate temperature, says Agnes K. Simone, DO, is a California-based psychiatrist, the founder of Olea Women's Health. "Theoretically, if you're increasing serotonin with the SSRIs, that's going to affect the ability to regulate internal temperature. People can end up feeling hotter than average, which can lead to sweating."

This heat sensitivity or intolerance can cause excessive sweating, dizziness, and fatigue. To add another layer, heat intolerance often occurs in temperatures others may find normal. "My patients experience this: the increased sweating, especially night sweats, and, overall, feeling more hot," says Dr. Simone.

How to Deal with Sweating on SSRIs

From my daily scrolls on TikTok, I've picked up many tips on dealing with heat intolerance - from eating electrolyte ice pops to cool yourself down in a pinch, to using anti-friction body powder to reduce sweating through your clothes. If you're looking to develop your own SSRI summer routine, TikTok user alliyahpau made a post in June showcasing the products she relies on, including carrying a mini fan with a cooling plate and a neck fan.

Here are my personal recommendations for curbing summer sweating on SSRIs:

Change your bedsheets twice a week.
Only drink ice-cold water.
Keep paper towels in your bag to pat your forehead for random internal heatwaves.
If you can, keep the air conditioner on high for a little longer.
Use dry shampoo on your roots before stepping outside.
Setting your makeup with a matte fixing spray to soak up the excess sweat.

On the expert side, these psychiatrists have a few recommendations too when it comes to surviving an SSRI summer:

Limit your time outside on hot days and avoid being in direct sunlight for extended periods.
Stay properly hydrated. The daily recommendation is still six to eight glasses a day (or 64 ounces).
Consult your psychiatrist if the heat sensitivity worsens. There could be another medical issue at hand.

"Depending on the severity or how intolerable the sweating is, I will lower the dose of the medication or switch to a different SSRI/antidepressant. If they're really bothered by it, we should do something about it," Dr. Simone says.

With any changes you may experience while taking SSRIs, you should always let a doctor know to explore all the possible causes. If you're experiencing an increased intolerance to heat specifically, Dr. Choulet recommends examining your thyroid. "Look for a medical cause of why you feel hot. Maybe get your thyroid checked, as thyroid issues can impact core temperature," she says.

Ayana Herndon is a New York City-based freelance writer and graduate of the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications at Syracuse University. She has a passion for amplifying voices of color through her writing, which spans fashion, beauty, and lifestyle. Her work has appeared in PS and Women's Wear Daily.