October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and as my dear Steve always says, “And I, for one, am aware of yours.” What a silly, lovely man. But it not so far off, this awareness, and I’m not talking about the sex thing. Whatever it is with most guys and their obsessions. I don’t know what that’s about, except for a funny sequence on “Ugly Betty” when Rebecca Stamos gets amnesia, and thinks she’s a man again. You see her in the hospital with both hands on her breasts, unable to stop feeling herself. I couldn’t stop laughing. As if that’s what a man WOULD do if he were to suddenly find himself in a woman’s body. Funny stuff.
Every October I get my mammogram. One year I forgot, and told my sweet friend Deb. The next day she called me and said, “Susie, I wasn’t able to sleep at all last night, and I won’t be able to sleep until you promise me that you’ll get your mammogram.” I promised her. Then I remembered. Deb had had breast cancer some years back. Duh. I’d totally forgotten. Of course she’d want to make sure that all of her girlfriends took good care of themselves and their health. Few things have touched me like that phone call.
I got the results from my mammogram back, and although we have no history of breast cancer in our family, and I have absolutely no fear around it, I was surprised at how excited I was to see that my scan was perfect. I grabbed the report and started dancing around the house, dancing WITH the report, actually, singing, “My breasts are healthy - thank you, Breasts.” My husband gave me his familiar head-cocked look of amusement mixed with perplexity and a little disbelief. Actually I’m not sure what he was thinking. Maybe just business as usual.
Okay, this may be the part where you think it’s weird, but why not? I ask. Why not thank your body for all the tremendous work it does for you? For cripes sakes, it keeps you ALIVE. That’s pretty good, isn’t it? So I think it’s time to create a new relationship with our bodies, and demystify all of the ‘secret’ body parts that are maybe too sexy or dirty or private.
Whatever! I’m going to Bras on Broadway tonight - if you drive down Broadway, you’ll see the streamers of bras hanging from the roof. It’s a beautiful sight, I’m telling ya. A testament to what’s possible when a few enlightened people put their heads together. Proceeds from tonight’s gala benefit women directly in our community. There’s a silent auction of local artist’s bra creations, a style show, two bands, and lots of food. Oh, and noise. Six of us goddesses are getting dressed up and going for it.
I’m loving it, this focus on breasts as things worthy of our care and consideration and yes, love. This secret stuff made public - no more secrets. Yes, there are prostates and ovaries and cervixes and testicles, and they all get cancer, too, and that’s all part of it, but right now it’s October, and it’s all about breasts. Oh, and bras. I’m feeling less squeamish about talking about it, because none of it IS dirty - I’m not making it dirty. It’s great, and beautiful and fabulous, and right up front (so to speak). So - let’s raise our glasses and drink to women, to breasts, to supporting each other (hah!) and taking care of ourselves, ALL of our Selves. And let’s drink to love. Always to love.