Talking About Breasts
“They’re just boobs.”
Those three words lingered with me long after I interviewed 31-year-old breast cancer survivor Amanda Sasher (read here). That’s how she described her decision to undergo a bilateral mastectomy after being diagnosed with the disease just two months prior.
During our conversation, it was obvious Amanda had emerged from her surgery with both her health and spirit intact. She was absolutely upbeat.
For more than 12 years, I’ve been interviewing dozens of women who were dealt the blow of hearing the diagnosis: “You have breast cancer.” It’s only been lately that I have been hearing more and more breast cancer survivors say, “They’re just boobs,” in response to mastectomy.
It gives me reason to believe there’s a paradigm shift going on here. And I like it. When you think about those mammary glands from the perspective of losing them to save your life, they’re definitely just boobs.
Maybe that shift in thought is coming about because of our increased willingness to talk publicly about breast cancer. Maybe it’s because we know we can always get a new pair through the wonders of cosmetic surgery.
Or it could be that we, as women, have become a lot more secure in what we have to offer beyond our body parts.
It’s quite a feat because our society can get a bit obsessed with boobs. Just look at women who wouldn’t have become famous without adding them to their repertoire. I recently mentioned boobs to a male co-worker, and two words immediately came out of his mouth: “Pamela Anderson.”
Though it’s been a while, there was a time when I obsessed about them — especially back in the day when all the girls around me were getting them and I wasn’t.
As a pre-teen, I scoured magazine ads, reading with wonder about formulas and creams that would miraculously change your bustline from a double A cup to a generous C. I didn’t believe them, but I kept reading anyway.
I also did the “we must, we must, we must increase our bust”-exercise routine. Nada. Nothing.
It got to the point where I starting wearing bras to keep up with my peers though they served no other purpose than decoration. (Some of my more well-endowed friends would say that I’m still wearing them as decorations.)
Then something happened in my mid- to late-20s. I got over it. Not that I grew or anything. I just decided, “B it is.”
That’s how it typically is. We grow up and start accepting or bodies … more or less.
But many of the breast cancer survivors I’ve met still make me pause with wonder. They’re amazing. They’re resilient. And they’re leading the way in getting us to think about who we are as women.
And that message is that we’ve got a lot more to offer than our boobs.
If you haven’t already, read our 2011 Breast Cancer Handbook (read here). Early detection saves countless lives. Take steps to monitor your own health and get the word out to the loved ones in your life.
