It’s National Breast Cancer Awareness Month again. Some of us don’t need a special month devoted to it because we are aware of it all the time. We’ve lost too many loved ones, watched too many friends suffer, had too many scares of our own.
I wrote this post a year ago to remind the women in my life to take responsibility for their own health by performing monthly self-exams and scheduling those annual doctor appointments. I want to share it again because, ladies, all the “awareness” in the world isn’t going to help any of us if we don’t take care of ourselves.
There was a boy in my sister’s grade in school who wrote a song that we all affectionately referred to as “The Boob Song.” It had several memorable verses and a rousing chorus that went something like “Everybody wants ‘em, everybody needs ‘em, they’re boobs BOOBS!”
I have long since forgotten the young composer’s name, along with some of the finer points of the song, but that chorus is forever burned into the deepest recesses of my memory and will not go away. Boobs. Titties. Chi-chis. Hooters. Ta-tas. Big ones, little ones, perky or saggy. We dress to hide them, make them look bigger, cover them up or reveal them. We spend a fortune on bras to push them up, minimize them, support them or simply strap them down. I have a friend whose bra doubles as a purse, storing everything from loose change to Driver’s License and possibly even…
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