On Stardust, Microplastics, and the Divine Body That Holds Them
blog 8 of
This Might Be Dense:
and other stories about your girls
Welcome to This Might Be Dense: and other stories about your girls.
This blog series pulls the curtain back on a part of the body that’s been so sexualized, it’s still censored: on social media, in schools, and even in medical conversations. And yet, over half a million women die each year from breast cancer.
Censoring information about women’s bodies doesn’t protect us: it endangers us.
So, this series is both personal and practical.
It’s a love letter. A rage howl. A guidebook.
It’s a reminder that ya girls were never meant to be a mystery, especially to you.
My Yiayia lived to 97.
When my husband bragged to her that he was born before the internet (perhaps to show her that he, too, was “old”?), she didn’t miss a beat: “I’m older than plastic,” she said.
And she was. Her body was made before Tupperware, before bottled water, before synthetic estrogen was sprayed on crops and baked into baby bottles.
Before the air, the soil, and the womb were full of particles no one could pronounce.
My body wasn’t, and if you’re reading this I bet yours wasn’t, either.
I’m an ‘82 baby and we were born into plastic, and now it’s in us. Literally.
Your Birthright, Your Burden
Microplastics have been found in human placentas, lungs, breast milk, and blood. These tiny particles don’t just pass through us; they settle in, disrupting the very systems we rely on for balance. They mimic estrogen, scramble our endocrine signals, and interfere with mineral absorption and cellular communication.
They’re invisible in the moment, but their effects accumulate — quietly, persistently — and in bodies made of stardust, we still don’t fully understand what it means to carry the weight of a plastic spoon in our brains.
You didn’t choose this exposure. You didn’t ask for plastic in your bloodstream or hormone disruptors in your breast milk. And yet, your body carries it—adapting, recalibrating, responding.
Bodies are miraculous that way. We find ways to survive, even thrive, despite the fact that our celestial vessels are now, in part, synthetic.
Everyone alive today was born too late for a clean start. We were raised in a world shaped by plastic, saturated in synthetic particles we never asked for—and rarely account for when choosing how to live a “healthy" life.
And still, somehow, we’re expected to thrive.
Maybe we don’t always rise above it.
Maybe we just learn to float.
from dust to, uh, plastic.
Microplastics disrupt the internal landscape in ways we're only beginning to understand: by altering hormonal rhythms, provoking inflammation, and taxing immune function. These shifts don't just affect our health; they fracture our sense of wholeness.
But even in that fragmentation, there is something ancient and resilient. Plants turn sunlight into sugar and water into blooms. Roots burrow deep in the earth and we, too, are of this earth.
We need stability, warmth, breath, nourishment, movement.
Acupuncture, touch, and deep breathing don't fix a poisoned world, but they remind the body that it belongs here. They call us back to rhythm and relationship and regulation. As an acupuncturist, I see this every day: the simple, sacred medicine of rehumanizing ourselves.
Maybe that’s our version of photosynthesis.
how to care for a body born into plastic, made of stardust
☀️ sunlight + stillness
Step into natural light. Let your breath slow. Let your body orient toward healing.
💦 sweating
Sauna, movement, breathwork. Some studies suggest microplastics may be partially released through sweat. Let your body try.
📗 acupuncture + lymph support
What modern toxins disrupt, ancient practices can help recalibrate. Circulation, breath, and touch remind the body how to move.
⚙️ nourishment, even if incomplete
Support your body with whole foods, mineral-rich meals, and gentle detox practices. We may not undo all exposure, but we can offer care.
🚇 grief as detox
Cry. Rage. Let it move. You are allowed to mourn the world you were born into and still hope for the one we’re trying to shape.
this is metal
In Chinese medicine, the Metal element is the layer closest to spirit. It organizes breath, ordinariness, beauty. It grieves what was lost, and it sanctifies what remains.
Metal is the god in the meat suit. The part of you that prays through cells. The stardust in human structure.
This is metal in action
Caring for a polluted body with reverence.
Letting light in through grief.
Choosing beauty anyway.
You are stardust.
With plastic in your bones.
And still, you shine.
This is proof of life.
Not because it’s clean.
But because it’s yours.
If this post helped you feel more informed, keep going. This Might Be Dense: And Other Stories About Your Girls is a full series: part practical guide, part personal reclamation, all grounded in research, rage, and reverence.
🧬 Understand breast tissue types
🍼 Explore milk, hormones & density
🔥 Learn how to manage pain & fibrocystic changes
📊 Decode your BI-RADS score and risk
🩻 Know your imaging options & how to advocate
💬 Say the quiet parts out loud
🌍 Understand environmental exposures & plastic’s impact (current post)
👐 Get the breast ritual PDF to care for your girls
You deserve to know your body before anyone else defines it for you.
