What's Wrong With Your Armpits?

Photo courtesy of Dr. Brian Glatt

When I was younger and had the chance to walk around half undressed as only the young can do, strangers would often come up to me, with face screwed in a knot of fright, point and ask: What's wrong with your armpits?

I stare at other women's breasts, constantly on the lookout, seeing where mine stand in this self inflicted imaginary lineup of perfection. I used to notice cleavages a lot because I didn't seem to have one. I have one now because I figured out: It's all in the bra, baby.

I also notice women who have no need for a bra, and if I tell you the truth here, right now, I harbour great big green, smoldering stinking envy for these women. I hate them. I've been shackled in a bra since the age of 6 months and women who can traipse around braless just get on my nerves. I inherited my grandmothers breasts, and if you ask me on what side that grandmother was, I will say: It doesn't matter because on both sides each grandmother had huge breasts which only makes me wonder if I got a double whammy of sorts. I guess it could have been worse. I could have developed four individual breasts. My mother however, is two raisins on an ironing board, and she goes braless at times which means this bra shit skipped a generation and landed on me.

What also landed on me is something referred to as,- which is completely harmless-, Axillary Breast Tissue.

So when someone points out my armpits I know that, unlike me who looks at breasts, there are others in this world who wander around looking at armpits. The only time I notice armpits is in film when a woman stretches an arm over her heard exposing her armpit, and then is when I notice that there is a little hollow there which I don't have. That hollow does look inviting and I do wonder if men see that hollow and shriek: Eureka! But most of the time I never give it a second thought. And no man that I have ever been with has seen my armpits and suddenly declared: I have to go now.

I know some people assume that this tissue is because I have extra weight. It followed me throughout eating disorders; it has noting to do with weight and it was there when I donned my first bra at age 6 months. I know that I can have it surgically removed but the idea of taking that kind of risk, to be put under, for cosmetic reasons is not a part of my constitution. I want to go to my grave with as many pieces intact. The only reason I would change my armpits is if I found myself being circled by mobs, jabbing lit torches my way, and chanting: Get her! The pits must go!

I like my armpits. They've been with me my whole life. What would I do without them? They bother other people, not me, and I really don't mind when people ask me about them because it gives me a chance to inform others about the various armpits thriving in this world; it's an educational moment. In my silliest of moments I think of having business cards made up with a picture of my armpits on one side and contact info on the other.

I like people how they come and I am most fortunate to believe that people like me as I come too.

Diane Tose 1942-2020

In part, Diane’s passing marks the end of an era. The end of a time in history when the work in HIV research was experimental and run by mavericks. Diane was a ‘maverick’ in the truest sense of the word. We all were no matter the discipline we worked in. We were trailblazers. Diane was a complex woman. If you didn’t come to know her she was just a tall British woman who put the fear of God in you. She was pragmatic, demanding, and proudly British, even though she confided in me that she felt much more American than British. Diane liked things just so. An inch either way would be enough for her to voice a strong opinion. Opinionated women can often be alarming, but in Diane I found a heroine. I admired and looked up to Diane. She was no-nonsense. I can remember her calling patients into her office for pelvic examinations with a loudly overheard: Let’s have a look-see, or a get those feet up in the stirrups. I am sure that had she been a man she’d have been reported into oblivion, but

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