I hate the color pink.
To be clear, I am not referring to the “pinkification” of our daughters. My daughter, completely of her own accord and despite constant discouragement from me, adores the color pink. While listening to the oldies station when she was about 3, she heard Springsteen’s “Pink Cadillac” immediately followed by John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Pink Houses” and thus her life’s goals were born – to live in a pink house and drive a pink car. God bless her. It’s not for me.
I’ve always looked askance (SAT word!) at the persistent use of pink in connection with the breast cancer fight. Not because I don’t support the cause, but because the color makes my eyelid twitch. Walking around any suburban mall during Breast Cancer Awareness month, you are assaulted by pink stand-up mixers, pink cupcakes and pink athletic supporters. Does it all have to be so Pepto-Bismol-y?
To reiterate, I hate pink.
I like to think that my humor is my greatest strength. Everything can be funny if you cock your head to the side and get a slightly different perspective. So I am choosing to find the funny now.
Cause it turns out I’ve got the breast cancer and the pink ribbons, stand-up mixers and athletic supporters are for me.
Sonofabitch.
I like my boobs. They may point due south and they may fall into my armpits when I lie down and there may be stray hairs I have to pluck every few days, but they’ve been with me a lot of years. And while I didn’t find them all that cooperative when trying to breastfeed twins or feeding an 11.5 pound baby who probably would have preferred a hunk of Italian sausage, I never considered that they wouldn’t always be here.
I’m still not sure what my treatment plan is going to be. I may keep both of the girls, I may lose one or even two. I don’t really know much of anything yet. But I do know that if I hadn’t decided that my New Year’s resolution was going to be to stop putting off a mammogram and get the girls squished, I wouldn’t know what I know and I wouldn’t be assembling my army and getting ready to fight.
So go get your boobies squished and say a little prayer for me that all will be well. My early prognosis is good and there is no reason to think that I won’t be nagging my granddaughters to get mammograms.
And maybe I’ll buy my husband a pink athletic supporter. Because you’ve got to find the funny.
Well that’s a suck ass diagnosis but glad to hear the prognosis is good. ((hugs))
Thanks,
Aw, Meredith! 🙁 I love your heart, the way you are able to find the positive and the humor in all situations. But this sucks too and I am so sorry. But if anyone can fight this, it’s you. So much love and lots of prayers!!
Thanks, Becky. Prayers are always welcome!
Motherfucker. I am going to share this, because it is a reminder for me to get another mammogram myself and a gentle nudge for everyone else. You’ll do great. And I’m glad to see you’ve recreated the blog. Sending mauve-ish thoughts.
Please share! And make your mammo appointment today. I put it off so many times.
Oh, and “motherfucker” was pretty much what I said. Actually, the range and breadth of my swearing was quite impressive.
I have always loved your funny, at times sarcastic, way of viewing all of the curveballs life has thrown your way! Big, giant any-color-that-makes-you-happy HUGS!!! Looking forward to the distant future and your hilarious posts of being a Blue-haired Granny! Sending you healthy, healing positive energy….. (and any other New Age-y stuff that may or may not help but might make you smile 😉
Thank you for your new-agey-ness! And of course the hugs.
Did you create that e-card, because it’s perfect for you! Sorry about your diagnosis, excited to hear your prognosis. Prayers are being said for you. How do you feel about purple? xoxo
I didn’t create it, but it does seem to be made for me, doesn’t it? Thank you for the prayers!
Meredith, cancer sucks the big one! I was just saying a couple of days ago that I hate the the hijacking of colors. I want my pinks, purples, yellows, reds etc in a crayon box, filling out a rainbow in the sky or on paint swatches trying to figure out what the hell to paint my walls…NOT on a friggin ribbon to tell cancer, lupus, diabetes, heart disease or any other damn disease to go to hell. All that being said, I and many, many others are living proof that you can and you will fight and kick cancer’s sorry ass to the curb. If you ever want to vent, ask questions and just cry and have someone who’s been through it hold your hold, give me call. xoxo
Thanks, Tammy. It is good to hear from survivors!
Meredith, You can beat it, you’ve been through the wringer and back, you can take this one down.
My dear friend Marlette also HATES pink, wants nothing to do with pink. Her daughter was born the same month as our sparklers – and because of various breastfeeding issues she ended up finding out that the pink was for her too. She beat it, you will too – and you don’t have to have anything pink if you don’t want to.
Ellie
Thanks, Ellie. I think I’m just funneling all my cancer-induced rage at the color pink, which, let’s be honest, kind of deserves it.
This piece touched me about as much as any piece of literature ever has. You have an amazing talent, Meredith. Bless you.
Thanks so much, Kelly. I’m touched.
This truly does bite the biggest one. My best friend from college was diagnosed with breast cancer in both breasts last spring. She elected to lose both, but had an amazing surgeon in NYC who built two new beautiful breasts using fat from her stomach , thighs , and buttocks. If you would like her contact, she is open and would share her experience with you and doc contact. Please let me know. I love you, your humor, and amazing spirit.
Love you, Laurissa. I’ll let you know if I want her contact info!