Washington Post | October 3, 2011
I remember consulting a friend’s copy [of “Our Bodies, Ourselves”] late at night, then buying one of my own, repeatedly scanning its pages for frank explanations and pictorial reassurance. Sure, I’d had basic sex ed (the theory) in high school, but I needed a user’s manual. What is that bakery smell, and why does it itch so much? My left breast is way bigger than my right one — is it cancer? “Our Bodies, Ourselves” never beat around the . . . I mean, it never disappointed.
Read the full story: by Stefanie Weiss