They're called boobs, Ed

It seems fitting, given the type of cancer I am battling, that at least one blog post should be devoted to the topic of breasts.  So here it goes - 


The title of this post is taken directly from the movie Erin Brockovich, and is one of the favorite movie quotes around our house.  In the movie, Erin (played by an "enhanced" Julia Roberts), is a real-life voluptuous but out-of-work mother who pushes her way into a job working for her lawyer, Ed.  Doing some simple research, she figures out that a large chemical company is responsible for an outbreak of cancer in a small community.  At the point this comical, but spot-on, observation is made, Erin is informing Ed that she intends to go to the public works department and copy the water test records.  Ed asks, "What makes you think you can just walk in there and take whatever you want?", to which Erin replies, "they're called boobs, Ed".


Cynical or accurate observation, Erin's response speaks volumes about the way our society views women's breasts.  These simple fatty tissues, common to all mammals, have been the focal point of paintings, the topic of songs and have spawned more nicknames that any other body part, by at least 10 fold.  


When used for their intended purpose, they beautifully nourish our children.  When used in other ways they can provide entry to public works records, nightclubs and occasionally the floor above the corporate glass ceiling.  It is during these later times that they become the mode of demeaning the feminine gender.  So why is it that we place so much importance on the physicality of this specific body part?


On October 7th I wrote about my frustration with the medical professionals' willingness to give me clear direction on what to do about my diagnosis, and the continued emphasis on this being a "personal decision."  If you had told me then how little I would miss my breasts I might not have believed you.  In fact, when this all started I assumed that my "pragmatic approach" would soon be overruled by some emotional attachment that I would have to the contribution my breast made on my appearance.   I won't tell you I haven't had a moment or two of sadness realizing I was losing a part of my body, but I never expected at this point in my progress to not be missing my breasts.  In fact, it's probably a good thing I didn't know I would feel this way or I may not have proceeded with the reconstruction, and that's a decision I might have regretted further down the line.  But who knows.


When you are faced with making a decision that will play a role in your likelihood of survival, that will help determine whether you face cancer once, or many times and how many times you put your family and yourself through the stress and anxiety that inevitability comes with battling this disease; then whether or not you end up a 32AA or a 36C is really not a relevant factor.


Over my life I have gone from overweight to underweight and with cup sizes that were directly proportional to my body fat index. When I look at our society's obsession with "thin", and many of the beautiful and successful actresses today who are  relatively un-endowed, it's odd to think that we should also be so obsessed with breasts, which are traditionally sized in direct proportion to our weight.  


It's also paradoxical that in a time when we are working so hard to teach our young women about positive and healthy body image, when companies like Dove are running successful ad campaigns focused on real beauty and real body types and when high profile women speak openly about past battles with eating disorders and other health issues related to body image in order to bring a voice and a consciousness to the serious risk facing our young girls today, that one of the most anticipated and highly rated television shows should be nothing more than a bunch of over-endowed, under-body-fat young women marching around for an hour in skimpy lingerie and talking about how it has been a life-long dream for then to achieve the high honor of being "an angel".  


Seriously?


So what drives this fascination with breasts?  We try to blame the media, advertising, television and movies; but individuals in those fields will tell you they only repeat what sells, and we are the buyers.  We try to blame the opposite sex, but when asked individually you can see that there are as many different views across both sexes of what is "desirable" as there are sizes and shapes of breasts.  We blame evolution - it is instinctual to look for mates that have attributes that are most associated with good breeders, those that can help us move forward our gene pool, but we know that our evolution itself has changed the criteria we should be looking for as a "more evolved" species.     


So where does that leave us?  I guess it leaves us as individuals, each, ironically, with a "personal decision" to make.  For me, that means I will chose to "de-emphasize" the importance of my breasts on who I am as a person.  Because I believe that by changing the way I think, and aligning my actions to those thoughts, just maybe I can create change in the world - or at least my own little corner of it.