Cancer Was Not a Gift & It Didn’t Make Me a Better Person, An Excerpt, Part 1

I am getting very excited about my new book which will be coming very soon.  (Thank you for your patience). You can read a little bit about it here. As we wait for the official release, I thought this might be the perfect time to share an excerpt. So…

The following is from my book’s introduction. I’ll break it down into two posts. Here’s part one. Can’t wait to hear what you think!

Introduction, Part 1

Many body parts come in pairs and are actually far more vital to our function and well-being than breasts. When you think about it, eyes, ears, arms, legs and other body part pairs are way more important to quality of life and our ability to live and move around. But it’s breasts American society is obsessed with. Women go to great lengths to make them appear bigger and sometimes smaller. We wear uncomfortable bras, some with wires that pinch and others with cumbersome push-up pads. We buy creams, ointments and various exercise contraptions to enhance our silhouettes. We worry that our breasts are too big, too small or too saggy. Many of us undergo surgeries to make our breasts bigger or sometimes smaller. From the moment puberty hits, breasts are either powerful assets to display and flaunt, or body parts we’d rather conceal and cover up.

I discovered at an early age what powerful components of female anatomy breasts are. One of my earliest recollections of childhood is running around the house my family lived in on Central Avenue North on hot summer nights wearing only my underwear, the bottom half of course. We lived on Central Avenue North for the first half of my childhood and for the second half, we moved to the other end of town, same street except Central Avenue South. The upstairs bedroom I shared with one of my sisters in that creaky, old house we rented was incredibly hot in the summer and likewise drafty and cold in the winter. On hot, humid summer evenings I ran around minimally clothed feeling totally uninhibited and carefree, concerned only about staying cool and comfortable. Then suddenly I reached a certain age when running around in only my underwear became unacceptable. Budding breasts were undoubtedly the reason for the unstated, but nonetheless explicitly known new restrictions. Modesty and being proper were suddenly more important than comfort and freedom.

A bit later when I was in fourth grade, one of my classmates abruptly and unexpectedly hit puberty and suddenly, overnight it seemed to the rest of us, she had breasts, and substantially sized ones at that. Immediately, she became someone of mystery and intrigue to those of us who had yet to blossom. With breasts she was someone to be in awe of and the rest of us tried to look inconspicuous with our stares and sideways glances. Sadly, I remember some girls treating her badly, teasing with mean, crude remarks sometimes directly to her face, but more often behind her back. And the boys definitely noticed, especially older ones waiting to prey on inexperienced and vulnerable new targets. Yes, even at such tender, young ages we were all well aware of the almost mystical power of breasts. The girls eagerly waited for, but also dreaded the inevitable transformation of our bodies, and the boys, well, they just acted like boys and waited for their own transformations as well…

Part 2 coming in my next post. 

When did you first become aware of the ‘mystical power’ of breasts?

Do you (regardless if you’re a man or a woman) remember your own “transformation”, in other words, when you hit puberty?

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