I'm not feeling very sexual, but you won't worry about it for 15 years
In a New York City podcast recording, comedian Amy Schumer offered her audience something rarer than a punchline: an unguarded account of what it actually costs to tend to a human body. Speaking with characteristic candor about botched procedures, failed medications, and the quiet upheaval of perimenopause, she placed herself within a growing chorus of women who are refusing to let the unglamorous details of medical life remain unspoken. Her testimony is less a celebrity confession than a reflection of how public discourse around women's health is slowly, imperfectly, finding its voice.
- A colonoscopy gone wrong became the unlikely centerpiece of a conversation about happiness, health, and what women are expected to keep quiet.
- Schumer's earlier attempt at Wegovy left her physically wrecked — vomiting, unable to function — a stark reminder that widely celebrated treatments carry real and individual costs.
- A switch to Mounjaro and the addition of hormone replacement therapy produced something closer to transformation: fuller hair, better skin, returned energy, and a libido she described with zero hesitation.
- The evening at Webster Hall captured a cultural inflection point — where medical struggle, pharmaceutical trial-and-error, and bodily honesty are becoming legitimate public conversation rather than private shame.
At Webster Hall in New York City, Amy Schumer sat across from podcast host Amanda Hirsch and said she felt happier than she ever had. When Hirsch pressed her on the source of that contentment, Schumer's answer took an unexpected turn: she had recently had a colonoscopy that did not go as planned. "I'm not feeling very sexual," she said plainly, before reassuring Hirsch that the upside — fifteen years before needing another screening — made the ordeal worthwhile.
The remark was vintage Schumer: direct, self-deprecating, and unwilling to smooth over the uncomfortable parts. It fits a pattern she has established over several years of speaking openly about her medical life. Three years ago, she tried Wegovy and found it unbearable — the nausea was severe enough that she stopped entirely, unsure whether her body had changed or the drug had. More recently, she switched to Mounjaro and described the experience as genuinely positive.
Around the same time, she began hormone replacement therapy after recognizing the signs of perimenopause. Her doctor prescribed estrogen and progesterone, and the effects came quickly: her hair thickened, her skin improved, her energy returned, and her interest in sex came back — a fact she announced with characteristic bluntness.
What Schumer offers, beyond the comedy, is a kind of public record of what navigating women's health actually looks like — the failed attempts, the side effects, the small victories. At Webster Hall that night, a botched colonoscopy was not just a punchline. It was one more honest entry in an ongoing account of what it takes to care for yourself, and what you choose to laugh about along the way.
Amy Schumer was on stage at Webster Hall in New York, sitting across from podcast host Amanda Hirsch for an episode of "Not Skinny, but Not Fat," when the conversation turned to her overall sense of well-being. Schumer said she felt happier than she ever had. Hirsch, curious about the source of that contentment, asked whether it had anything to do with physical attractiveness. Schumer thanked her for the question, then pivoted to something unexpected: she had recently undergone a colonoscopy that did not go as planned.
"I actually had kind of a botched colonoscopy, so I'm not feeling very sexual," Schumer said matter-of-factly, "but see that's another thing you're not going to have to worry about for 15 years, OK?" She assured Hirsch that despite the procedure's complications, the long-term benefit—a decade and a half without needing another screening—made it worthwhile.
The remark was characteristic of how Schumer has approached her health in recent years: with candor and a willingness to discuss the messy, unglamorous details of medical care. Over the past several years, she has been vocal about her weight-loss journey and the various pharmaceutical interventions she has tried. Three years ago, she attempted Wegovy, a GLP-1 receptor agonist similar to Ozempic, but the experience was brutal. "I was like puking," she recalled in a video she posted while driving. "I couldn't handle it." She did not know whether the formula had changed or whether her body simply could not tolerate it, but the side effects were severe enough that she abandoned the approach.
More recently, Schumer switched to Mounjaro, a different injectable medication, and reported a markedly different experience. She described the drug as having been "great" and said she was having a genuinely positive response to it. Around the same time, she also began hormone replacement therapy after realizing she was in perimenopause. Her doctor prescribed estrogen and progesterone, and the effects were noticeable almost immediately. Her hair became fuller. Her skin improved. Her energy levels rose. And her libido returned—a change she noted with characteristic directness: "I want to get down more if you know what I mean – I'm talking about sex."
Schumer's openness about these treatments—the failures and the successes—reflects a broader cultural shift in how women discuss their bodies and their medical care. She is not alone in using weight-loss medications, nor is she alone in navigating perimenopause, but her willingness to name these experiences publicly, to acknowledge both the complications and the benefits, has made her something of a voice in conversations that were once considered too private or too embarrassing for public discussion. At Webster Hall that evening, a botched colonoscopy became just another data point in an ongoing narrative about what it means to take care of yourself, and what you are willing to endure—or laugh about—in the process.
Citações Notáveis
I feel happier than I've ever been before— Amy Schumer
I actually had kind of a botched colonoscopy, so I'm not feeling very sexual, but see that's another thing you're not going to have to worry about for 15 years— Amy Schumer
A Conversa do Hearth Outra perspectiva sobre a história
Why did she bring up the colonoscopy at all? It seems like an odd thing to mention on a podcast.
Because she was being asked directly about why she felt so good, and the honest answer involved her whole health picture—not just the medications that worked, but also the procedures that didn't go smoothly. She wasn't trying to be shocking; she was just being literal about her actual experience.
But the sexual comment—was that necessary?
For her, yes. She was making a point about trade-offs. A botched procedure has real consequences, but the screening itself buys you 15 years of peace of mind. She was saying: this is what happened, it's not ideal, but here's the actual math of it.
Do you think she's trying to normalize talking about these things, or is she just naturally this candid?
Probably both. But what matters is that she's doing it in front of an audience, which means other people hear it and think, "Oh, I can talk about this too." That's how the conversation changes.
What's the bigger story here—the colonoscopy, or the fact that she's been so public about trying different medications?
The colonoscopy is just a detail. The bigger story is that she's treating her body like a real thing that requires maintenance and experimentation, and she's not pretending otherwise. That's different from how these conversations used to happen.