Boobies.
Please pass the pancakes.
“What? You’re 52 and haven’t had a MAMMOGRAM? Get it Done, Girl.”
Well, I had a lot going on in my 50th year - moving countries unexpectedly that year and all that jazz, so musta I missed the invitation from the NHS and getting set up with life (and healthcare) in the US is no small feat, so I only just got round to it… Thankfully for myself and my family the results have come back negative but this experience, as many with my head living in different cultures led me to set the table differently today:
Pancakes for Dinner. Big Ones, Small Ones. Nobody wants a lumpy one.
Side of Avoidance? No can do.
Palette Cleansers… the Boobies, obvs.
It’s OK to Use Your Hands.
Sausages on the Down Low. Let’s really talk about the Male Parts.
Big Ones, Small Ones. Nobody wants Lumpy Ones.
From the moment I woke up on the day of Said M-O-Gram, all I could think about was Boobs. Right next to me… the circle-dot cover of the book on my bedside table… and then somehow, every image that came into view was circles and pairs and well… apart from my fear of putting deodorant on, the only thing that seemed to be on my mind was these circles.
The boobies were - they are - everywhere. Perfect Pairs.
…even on the bench in the Mammo screening room. The bench is upholstered in circles that the Radiologist said she had never noticed before. What?!
The Mammogram.
I’ll admit to a couple decades of fearing this experience. My Mom - rather famous for her dramatic and graphic descriptions of events - had talked me through the horror of her exam, prolly 20 years ago. From memory, it went something like this...
“They grabbed The Girls and smushed ‘em.”
“Yep. Flat like a pancake. (I recall hand smacking sounds over our phone call) They just laid ‘em on a cold hard slab and flattened ‘em out while my face and body was contorted in the X-Ray. Well, it HURTS, Abby. That pressure. Oh, and The Person. That technician person, well it’s like they are robots, not human beings…”
You get the gist. I can’t say I was avoiding this experience, but I can say that it matters how we talk about it. And it matters how the women helping women… help women.
Very kind. Very informative.
And… interesting that nobody asked me ‘have you done this before? Do you have any concerns? I’m going to touch you, it might feel cold, bit of pressure and it won’t last long, Dear….’
Something like that. Because it’s true.
It’s OK, I’ll be back next year. I know what to expect.
But it got me thinking. Once again about The Boobs. Thank goodness we have (I hope) arrived at an age and era where we can keep it real and show them and talk about them (and text or sext about them) and get them out and hang them on our walls too…
We are all different and we are evolving and there is beauty in the unknown as well as safety in communication.
A while back, (when I started dating in my mid-40s) I asked a straight male friend about the implants and the boob jobs, in wonder… do I need them? Is that what men want? Is that what men need from a woman? Am I missing something? How much does it matter?
He gave me a very frank and heartwarming reply;
“Oh Yah, Abbs… they are Great. Don’t get me wrong. We LOVE to see them high and round and perky and we look [and sometimes ogle] at the shape of a woman. The female body is beautiful. However, once we are getting our clothes off and being close with a woman, it matters VERY little how big or small or hard or soft their breasts are, we are just so grateful to be in their arms (and…).
I’ll let every woman decide for herself on how she wants to market herself to men, but it was helpful to learn more about the male… brain. More on that in a (little) bit.
Avoidance? No Can Do.
Breast Cancer is absolutely a Global and a Democratic Issue.
The Most Common Cancer Worldwide. Thanks to the incredible efforts and abundance of Pink Ribbons over the past 40 years, pretty much everyone is ‘aware’ of breast cancer. I’m also learning that early detection and ‘awareness’ are not a cure-all. It seems that many of our efforts now must shift to Prevention and to helping people with advanced breast cancer. The cancer very often comes back…
My recommendation (with most things) is to keep sensitive subjects on the menu regularly. Yes with Pink, yes with Ribbons and Boobie Stickers and Boobzels and cupcakes. With our eyes and hearts open but also with our heads-on to make sure to avoid pink-washing and funding goes where it is needed. More on the meaning of those Pink Ribbons here.
It’s OK to Use Your Hands
Not every country in the world has access to X-Rays and Scanners and Tech and I believe we can learn a lot from those that don’t.
I recently learned that India (started in Germany, and hoping there may be others) has introduced radiation-free breast examination for early cancer detection. 'Discovering Hands’ project is an innovative public health model. Blind and Visually Impaired women are trained to detect abnormalities in the breasts, and contribute in early detection of breast cancer.
WOW.
[Image and insight thanks to Goats & Soda, Stories of Life in a Changing World.]
Using their highly developed sense of touch, whilst studying minute braille dots, these women detect the minutest abnormalities.
“They were so successful that they were 30% better at detecting tissue changes than doctors,” Hoffman says of the trainees. “The MTEs can identify lumps at the very initial stages, even before they show up on imaging scans.”
I’m curious when this tactile approach be extended? Do I really need a cold ‘scan’ every year? The warm words and hands of another woman - helping me helping her helping me? I’m not against scans and am grateful to have them to make these early detections, just makes me wonder if there is a combo solution.
Sausages on the Down Low. Let’s really talk about the Male Parts.
Apparently, nobody (but Mo’ and now Me) wants to talk about The Male Parts and equivalent dangers. After I was bombarded by circles, leading my brain to wander to boob-icons and boob art, I decided to search for ‘penis art’ to learn that our search engines are MUCH LESS COMFORTABLE sharing those visuals and somehow ‘SafeSearch’ was default-ly activated to protect me by blurring out those ‘dangerous’ images of penises. Hmmmm.
But, no Safety Goggles needed for boobies. Go ahead, type in ‘boob art’ for yourself …
Never one for giving up, further search for penises, penis art, penis emoticons and body positive dick, willy line drawings… led me down a more fruitful path. One that convinced me that while women can, do and will support men, ultimately men are going to lead men with the right words and actions that mobilize them to action.
Clearly a subject for another meal, but I’ll leave the Offal on the table while I give thanks to Movember Foundation for putting mustaches on the Men and Boys. Until we are as comfortable with visualizing and normalizing rather than shaming the male parts, then I say, mustaches for us all.
Here’s hoping that the Bro Code helps come up with words and actions that help our men help each other move past the shame … but equally comprehend why we won’t be training blind women to examine the men. Nope. Getting to know our bodies and talk openly about how they look and the things that happen to us over time is universal.
Maybe not always dinner table conversation in everyone’s home but if not, then grow a ‘tache, grab a cup of tea or a beer or a quiet moment to talk with a friend. #real #bruh
Book that annual appointment.
ABBY.
P. S. Dinner table humo(u)r aside, my heart is with my loved ones and those who have lost parts of themselves as well as whole people they love to these cancers. I see you. I’m doing my bit to share experiences with a hope to end closed minds.
Love how you so delicately incorporated the awful Offal into the sentence. Brilliant, as always!