There is no greater joy than the feeling of unclasping your bra at the end of the day and throwing it randomly in any direction as far away as you can.
Freedom is made of this.
No man will ever know this freedom, the best they can do is compare it to being pressed and kicking down doors to the loo followed by the grunt of relief afterwards. No, it cannot be compared to this imprisonment and the release.
Talking of bras, lets talk about breasts.
Today we call then breasts, not boobs,not tits,not ‘chipuchangas’ but Breasts.
As a woman, I never really give them much thought, they are just these things I carry around in a cage all day and release them at the end of the day. I suppose men spend a lot more time thinking, looking even touching than we do. They analyse every pair that walks by, A cup.B cup. The beloved DD. Its a fascination that’s hard to fathom, the superficiality of it all. Yet they make us out to be the enigma they can never understand, walking around shaking their heads and downing beers as they ‘tsk’ at women. Well men, you are as much of a paradox as we are.
Back to Breasts.
They may seem simple to many, a norm to most but to others they are pain, regret and loathing. I can only imagine one sunny afternoon as the doctor breaks the news about your stage 3 cancer, what will you think of your breasts then? Will you reminisce how it was when you dressed up in a low cut top and men couldn’t stop staring with carnal desire? How good that made you feel, how sexy that made you feel? No you won’t . I know I wouldn’t . These two breasts would suddenly become Pain, regret, loathing and even death. The afternoon wouldn’t be sunny anymore, it would become dark and haunted . The night would become my haven as I cry myself to sleep.
I will feverishly google about breasts and breast cancer and that would make it worse because google will tell me I’m dying. Google always tells you that you’re dying. My life would never be the same again. I imagine that no breast cancer survivor has ever said their life was the same after their breast was cut off. I imagine the feeling of unhooking your bra will not be the same after that.
But there’s one little control we have over breast cancer and we’re reminded every October with lot’s of pink because pink has always been a woman’s colour.
The televisions will broadcast breast cancer survivor stories ,our google alerts, our bloggers will be writing about it(as I am ) and others will be reminded by an app of hot guys with six pack abs and magical blue eyes. These hot guys will always be shirtless who will tell you every month not to forget to TLC your breasts.
Touch. Look. Check
My alert came today, A shirtless chocolate man with a taut butt popped up on my phone screen today and as he casually held the dumbbell in his hand told me not to forget my monthly TLC. So here I am,infront of a mirror touching, looking and checking my breasts doing the self test breast cancer exam. I don’t do it every month, some months I ignore the shirtless men but its advisable to check every month.
This month is breast cancer month. Ladies let’s go for breast cancer examination or you can even learn to do it yourself through apps like the one with shirtless men ( Your man reminder app)
Gentlemen, well you don’t have breasts. But there’s prostrate cancer examinations too which you should turn up to especially if you’re above 40.
To all breast cancer survivors,this post is a dedication to you. I wear pink for you this month.