Boobs are funnier than cancer
Breast cancer is not funny. There is really nothing remotely funny about it. Ironically, boobs are hilarious. Women walk around with these funny, bouncy things sticking out in front of them. Big, small, perky, droopy, real, fake-whatever kind you've got, the whole world knows it.
Breasts are not primarily a sex organ, or even a primary sex organ, and possibly not even an organ at all-I'm not a doctor. However, in our culture, they certainly are sexual. Most other sex bits and pieces are carefully hidden away. We don't know what your pants are concealing. But we all know about your boobs.
We know when you're cold, when you decided on a push-up bra, when you've skipped the bra altogether, (not recommended). We see them sticking up out of your blouse; we see your necklace pendant wedged in the middle (just me?). We see that you're really an A-cup pushed and squeezed up into a miracle bra. Let's be honest; it looks stupid. Who do you think you're fooling with your false advertising? And you, with your immobile cantaloupes, we know they're fake. They don't look good.
Every man I know has checked out my boobs. They can't help themselves. Not because my boobs are anything especially spectacular (they totally are) but because men are just so interested in boobs. There is no (straight) man who wouldn't like to stare at your ta-tas rather than listen to whatever it is you're saying. He may try to hide his glances with a scratch at his brow, a cough. But you know he's looking. We go our whole lives simultaneously showing off our boobs and getting offended when men take notice.
We also go our whole lives covering them up-we're not a terribly topless culture. Then we have a baby and our boobs are no longer sexual at all. They are purely for the nourishment of our precious babes. Suddenly we're offended that anyone could ever think differently. We whip ‘em out in public, determined to not look as self-conscious as we feel, certain that our boob-whipping peers are not uncomfortable like we are. We allow nurses, lactation consultants, just about anyone willing to help us adjust, squeeze, and steer our breasts into ideal feeding position. We talk about our breasts openly and with everyone, sometimes thinly disguised with words like "feeding," "nursing," "pumping." But really, we're talking about boobs.
We go around with a new set of bigger boobs for a while. These boobs are heavy and they leak. The nipples are humongous. And they sure don't enjoy the privacy that our old boobs did.
And then we wean and our breasts go back to being sexual beacons lighting the way before us. Except now they're low beams instead of high beams.
See? Boobs = hilarious. Breast cancer = still not funny.
In the spirit of breast-cancer awareness month, I am donating my pay from this post to Dana-Farber Cancer Institute. In The Powder Room is generously matching my donation. Please feel your boobs today and encourage your friends to feel theirs.