I’m not going to hate on pink this October. I know many women, many survivors and fighters dread October and I am so completely okay with anyone hating The Coming of the Pink, because I see the other side of the coin now. I’ve had a foot in both worlds.
Please know, there are moments when I open my mailbox or try to buy a new spatula that I think I may cut some bitches over all the PINK in my life…but, I have to admit…the month of October, for all its merchandising and hype, is a really good opportunity to remind people to do self exams and schedule their mammograms. I mean…how many of us found our lumps/were diagnosed around this time of year? I don’t know any stats, but I’m willing to bet there are a great many women and men for whom October is The Month They Found Out. I know it was for me.
That said, it’s once again time for the Boobiethon. Why am I enraged by one form of titillation, yet completely okay with another? Oh, Dear Frantic Googler, I’m glad you asked. I am a complex woman. Full of mystery. And caffeine. And occasionally bacon. My thoughts on the Boobiethon. Let me show you them.
I know the history of it (which is a bit of an amusing story involving my Hot Internet Wife and very good friend, Statia). I’ve known Mel for years and she is just awesome—because, I do have excellent taste in friends, if I do say so myself. So, yeah–I know the women running it. They’re awesome, they’re caring and smart. They’ve raised nearly $75k in the past 9 years and I hope this year turns out to be a record-breaker.
How is this different from those stupid bra memes I hate? Because the bra memes are coy and confusing and make no sense or reference to cancer at all. The boobiethon talks about breast cancer. Why are we here? Breast. Cancer. No one is coy about it. Men are involved, men are submitting shots–because men are affected, too. Are men looking at the pay-per-boobie page? Well, sure. So are women. Is it titillating? Yeah, it is. I have no issues with titillation if it reminds someone to get their mammogram scheduled. Most of us love boobies. I love them. I loved mine—until they tried to kill me. THEN I CUT THEM UP. (okay, okay–my SURGEON does the cutting) Harrumph. Murderous boobies get the knife in my house.
I know these women and I know that they are more than just their breasts, just as they know that I am more than just mine.
I know that “save the boobies!” tends to be the October battle cry. But, I also know that it’s too late for so many of us to save our boobies and we had to concentrate on saving ourselves. I would love to see ‘Save the Women’, but then that excludes men, so maybe we should concentrate on saving the people.
I would like that.