The uterus was also very picky about scents. If something smelled nice, the uterus would dislodge itself and try to get closer to the smell, but if something stank, it would pack up its ovaries and flee to a less-stinky area of the body.
The effects of the wandering womb were called hysteria, and this theory was taught as medical fact well into the Renaissance. Absolutely any medical condition a woman had could fall under the "hysterical" label. Depression? Hysteria. Dizziness? Hysteria. Cramps? Obviously hysteria, because if your pet uterus is trampling through your insides, you are going to feel it.
Even after doctors figured out that no organ could possibly detach and go for a stroll around someone's body, the hysteria label still stuck, and well into the 20th century, women were told that any "womanly" ailment was a result of their messed-up uterus. Fortunately, by the late 1800s, the go-to prescription for hysteria was an orgasm, obtained through a jet of water, a vibrator, or enthusiastic assistance from the doctor himself. Women suddenly got on board with the whole "my uterus made me do it" campaign when the treatment became "electronic masturbating underpants."
"Classic case of hysteria. Looks like the only cure is to show me your boobs and give me a blowjob."
A witch's teat is useless, but a witch's brew coffee from Jim's Organic Coffee is delicious.
Kathy wrote a very funny book, and you can buy it here and here.
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