Beautiful Bosoms

I love my boobs.

They may make it tough to play golf or take the stairs at a quick pace. Bras can really suck too, especially in the summer. But life just wouldn't be the same without them staring at everyone at a cold football game. I love my girls. They really just make a girl feel pretty sometimes all sittin there in my little black dress adorned with some pearls. It's part of what makes me feminine and curvy, maybe not by much in my case, but it works for me and I'm ok with it. I can't blame guys for loving boobs. Deep down, ladies, we all have to admit we like them too. Sometimes I forget that some women in this world wish they could have my little booby problems.
I hate cancer. I've stated this a few times I think. But just in case you missed it, here it is again.

I hate cancer.

If there is one thing we can all be united about, it's about ending it. The mistakes of our mortality- our DNA gone wrong. I can think of better ways to die.

So I love boobs and hate cancer. I am trying really damn hard to get people involved for the Race for the Cure this year. There's nothing like looking into the face of a young mother wiping the mouth of her two year old and serving those around her with her bald head and rigid chest. Stripped of her femininity, her beauty blazes forth in her fight and smile. Then there is the 86 year old decked out in pink from head to toe. On her survivors hat, she's got 39 ribbons indicating her years of health and a swollen left arm as her battle scar. But she's there encouraging the young mother to stay strong like her. She encourages those around her to keep pushing and keep trying. There is just a buzz of hope and life in the aura around her aging body. Because she knows that cancer doesn't just go for the body. It can take the soul too. Her aura is contagious.

These women have done drugs Keith Richards hasn't even heard of.

Which leads to the story of my friend Carol. She's done some of those drugs. Fifteen years ago, Carol found a lump in her breast. She heard that horrible phrase from her doctor, "It doesn't look good." Instantly she was thrown into the triage of intense radiation, chemo treatments and of course, a mastectomy. Back then, they removed the entire breast, some of the surrounding muscle tissue and all the lymph nodes in the armpit associated with that breast. After these surgeries, women can't raise their arms due to the muscle loss but can't put them down due to incisions. It's agonizing. As she healed, she found she had lymphodema. Since all her lymph nodes were gone in her arm pit, the fluid that internally cleans our bodies doesn't drain from her left arm. Depending on how bad it is from day to day determines whether or not she can use it. Some days, it just won't function. But Carol is a trooper and never lets it dampen her or her infamous wit and sarcasm that I love her for.

Fast forward 11 years. Reaching for the tv remote with her good arm, Carol notices a weird sensation in her remaining breast. Reaching up, she felt an all-to-familiar and unwelcomed house guest. It had returned to strike again. She's was already missing a breast and realized she could be losing the other AND the only functional arm she had but she faced it with the all the wrath of God and her handful of scarves. She began her barrage of testing and treatment and went in for her final mastectomy. When she woke up, she discovered her arm to be fully functional and movable. Because of the research done by countless scientists and the money raised by her friends and neighbors, they only had to remove 4 lymph glands and far less muscle tissue. Scientists figured out a pattern to breast cancer's infection of these vital tissues thus sparing the victims the anguish of lymphodema and tissue loss. Carol was facing disability her whole life not to mention disfigurement. Now she's got her life back. All because you and I got up one morning, once a year, and took a walk.

Take that breast cancer.

So September 19th, come take a walk with me. All it takes is the $25 you were gonna blow on booze or a movie that night; $25 that now allows a woman to move. Come see for yourself the aura of the old lady, the life in the young mother or the determination of a woman "running" the race in her wheel chair. It'll put life into perspective and genuine hope in your heart that, as I grow older, seems to be harder and harder to find sometimes.
So come take a walk with me. Come realize why breasts represent life. You'll be home by noon and can crawl back in bed and dream about wonderful, beautiful boobs.