Oh Angelina. I love you so, but right now I kind of hate you. Your recent revelation that you had a double mastectomy to avoid the near-inevitable bout of breast cancer is amazing. YOU are amazing.
I am now facing the reality that I'm most likely going to get breast cancer, unless I do the same thing you did.
Ironic though. Just Tuesday I took a look at "the girls" and said "Wow! My boobs look GREAT today!" I don't want to lose them. There. I said it. Vanity.
Both my maternal grandmother and my mother had breast cancer. My mom is still recovering from a "lumpectomy" and chemo. She says she's fine, but I can see. She's smaller than she's ever been, bald like a baby bird. During my parents' most recent visit, Mom gave me a bunch of her clothes that don't fit her any more, and an heirloom ring that's too big for her.
It's the ring that affects me more than anything. I can remember my mother wearing it for decades- she'd gotten it from my father's mother when my parents got engaged. I'm guessing it may have been HER mother's? I don't know. But it's delicate, fancy, old-fashioned, and now- mine. I wear it on my right hand, and it sits there uncomfortably. I'm getting used to it, but it's just so incongruous- white gold, diamonds and sapphires on the same hand that sports an inexpensive dolphin ring on the thumb. If I reach over to scratch my left arm, I see the ring next to a tattoo I got just days before my parents' visit.
Pierced, tattooed, eternally juvenile- I'm not supposed to be the one wearing this.
Like the ring, breast cancer is something I don't feel prepared to get. But like all heirlooms, I'll probably have to deal with it someday.
I am now facing the reality that I'm most likely going to get breast cancer, unless I do the same thing you did.
Ironic though. Just Tuesday I took a look at "the girls" and said "Wow! My boobs look GREAT today!" I don't want to lose them. There. I said it. Vanity.
Both my maternal grandmother and my mother had breast cancer. My mom is still recovering from a "lumpectomy" and chemo. She says she's fine, but I can see. She's smaller than she's ever been, bald like a baby bird. During my parents' most recent visit, Mom gave me a bunch of her clothes that don't fit her any more, and an heirloom ring that's too big for her.
It's the ring that affects me more than anything. I can remember my mother wearing it for decades- she'd gotten it from my father's mother when my parents got engaged. I'm guessing it may have been HER mother's? I don't know. But it's delicate, fancy, old-fashioned, and now- mine. I wear it on my right hand, and it sits there uncomfortably. I'm getting used to it, but it's just so incongruous- white gold, diamonds and sapphires on the same hand that sports an inexpensive dolphin ring on the thumb. If I reach over to scratch my left arm, I see the ring next to a tattoo I got just days before my parents' visit.
Pierced, tattooed, eternally juvenile- I'm not supposed to be the one wearing this.
Like the ring, breast cancer is something I don't feel prepared to get. But like all heirlooms, I'll probably have to deal with it someday.
(sorry it's blurry. iPod doesn't do it justice)
