Fight Against Breast Cancer? Bring It On!

Michelle Momper

In honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I’m paying tribute to boobage. Not in a creepy, I-can’t-believe-you-said-that sort of way, but in a respectful, hopefully somewhat insightful manner. After all, women’s breasts are the stuff that songs, movies and motherhood are made of.

My mother is a breast cancer survivor. She had a radical mastectomy on her left side about 20 years ago, and then a right side mastectomy about ten years ago. To deal with any kind of cancer is sobering to be sure, but dealing with breast cancer is extremely personal.

From the minute we women hit our tween years, we become obsessed, frustrated and sidetracked by our breasts. It’s almost like adopting a pet. You don’t know how they’re going to grow, they need special harnesses, and once you have them, it seems like it’s what everyone wants to stare at or talk about. It can be very disconcerting.

Once we get used to our breasts, no matter how small or big, they become a normal part of our everyday lives. But then there ensues a lifelong battle … to find the right-fitting bra, to purchase the appropriate (and hopefully complimentary) clothing … and this doesn’t even scratch the surface of what happens after forty. Gravity takes hold, and once strong and perky tissue becomes soft and, well, gently used.

It’s a love/hate relationship we have with our breasts. Sometimes I personally hate the fact that so much attention is paid to them – from the media, from our culture, from distracted men and coworkers. And then sometimes, with the right blouse and cup support, they are things to behold, to be proud of and to, dare I say, appreciate.

Because I am considered to be in a high-risk category for breast cancer, I get annual mammograms religiously. And every year as I wait for my official results, I experience the same array of emotions: panic, fear and dread. What if, I think. What if this is my year? What will I do? What about my children?

So far I’ve been lucky, but many of my friends and family members have not. I’ve had people very close to me suffer through chemotherapy, radiation, knives and healing. Sometimes recovery, sometimes death. I’ve seen women struggle to mend their shattered selves after losing their breasts, and I’ve seen others come to terms with their new silhouette with unimaginable courage and grace.

Once you or someone you love has breast cancer, these strangely foreign parts of our bodies become our adored friends. They represent so many things … perhaps our youth, many times our identity, but always womanhood. They represent a sort of wholeness that we might not have previously realized was so important.

Take them away, and what is left? A person with the same heart, the same spirit and the same mind. Only better. What is left is a woman with more wisdom, strength, insight and character. Women’s breasts are a defining characteristic, yet are not what define us. With or without breasts, we women are warriors. So hug your wife, your sister, your daughter or friend tonight. And do your best this month to be aware. Even better? Join in on the fight.