You know who are defined by their boobs? Strippers and porn stars. And Real Housewives. It doesn’t matter if you have an amazing set of headlights or a tiny pair of titties; breast cancer can take your breasts, but it can’t take who you are. Unless you are one of the previously mentioned strippers, porn stars or Real Housewives. Even then. it can’t take who you are inside, just the public persona your melons helped create.
In the past I’ve told you I’m a big fan of the boob. Please don’t infer that I’m only a fan of big boobs, because that’s far from the truth. Big, small, round, saggy, fake or real, I dig em. The only boobs I shy away from are the extremely ginormous. Those tend to be a bit off-putting. The more I think about it, ginormous juggs are fine, but the ultra-ginormous ones are kind of odd.
How does one explain their saggy fake KK’s to the grandkids? “Well, when I was 18 I liked anal. And high quality coke. And money. I figured the best way to get all three was to buy some fake breasts and start making the kind of porn that freaks most people out.” I have to believe there’s a better explanation that that, but I think you get the point I’m trying to make here. There definitely is such a thing as too big.
As I was saying, I’m a fan of boobs and I think that breast cancer fuckin blows. As a dude I could never imagine what it’s like to lose a breast. Some people will say ball cancer is the guy equivalant, but I beg to differ., Yes, we are very attached to our balls. Chances are we’ve been fondling them for many years and they’ve been good to us. And it’s absolutely amazing when a chick will, uh, never mind…
If i was to have a sack–ectomy (or whatever they call the surgery to remove a juevo), no one would notice as I walk down the street. Even if I was to walk down the beach in a Speedo (which I would NEVER do), chances are no one would know that I go by the name Onepac. As opposed to Tupac. Yeah. I know that joke was stupid, but I had to. I apologize.
If a woman who has had a masectomy walks down the street, chances are good that someone will notice. Unless, of course, she’s made prior arrangements to hide the situation. I think breast cancer and prostate cancer are similar, but I just don’t think a ball is quite the same as a boob.
I’m so alone, and I feel just like somebody else
Man, I ain’t changed, but I know I ain’t the same
I’ve mentioned in the past that I have a degenerative neurological thing going on and there are periods of days and weeks that I don’t feel like myself. I know I’m still me, but I’m not. Does that make sense? I’ve gotta assume it’s kind of the same way for breast cancer survivors. Except that the, “Days and weeks”, is a bit more permanent.
Ladies, am I right on this or am I way off base? You’re still you, but I’m sure there have to be moments where you feel like you’re someone else. Maybe I’m way off base with this. Who knows? If I’m unclear with my explanations, I should probably inform you that Jack Daniels dropped in a while ago and the un-clearness is probably because I can’t listen to him yap in my good ear as I try and type this.
If you’re offended by any of this, I feel bad that you don’t have a sense of humor. I’m using mine to bring awareness to a disease affecting way too many women, their families and their friends. If this post got one woman to think, ‘”Oh yeah. I probably should schedule that mammogram I forgot about,” or if one dude gets his girlfriend, sister, wife or mother to get checked out, it will be worth it.
The haters can kiss my ass. If you like the post, tell your friends to read it. If you hated it, tell your friends what a douche I am and that they should check it out. Either way, the word gets out.
But me & Cinderella,
We put it all together
We can drive it home
With one headlight
P.S. That dude front and center in the picture is Jakob Dylan. Son of Bob Dylan. Junior has a pretty decent voice and is much better at pronouncing words than his pop. Check out the video. It’ll improve the quality of your life. Probably.