One day she lost her #body. No, that's not quite right, most of her body was still there. It was the va-va-voom parts that had up and left. Where her lady bits should have been there was a blacked out box and giant red X, respectively.
Her husband, who had always seemed supportive, left after the first doctor's appointment determined there was no cure. Since no one could be sure where her womanly wiles had went, or what had caused them to vacate, there was no guarantee replacements would work. They could put in new everything and the next day--whoops--they might be gone again. The doctor didn't think that would be a successful outcome for anyone.
Alone now, she was #angry at herself for ever thinking bad thoughts about her body before. Was this her punishment for all the times she'd cursed her #period or bemoaned the size of her #breasts? She longed for the times she spent looking at herself in the bathroom #mirror. To be able to see herself--all of herself--without #censorship.
She'd nearly forgotten what they looked like, when one day they came back. By that point, she was at #peace with her incomplete body and had grown to be deeply appreciative of her remaining body parts. The return of her old friends caused a flurry of #joy, but it was nothing in comparison to the feeling of wholeness that stole over her.
She spent a lot of evenings in after that. Now she was deeply appreciative of every part of her body and never was parted from any of them ever again.