Two for Show
I overheard my work neighbor today. She was calling about a mastectomy. She was making an appointment to amputate half of her womanhood.
She is going to be half-titted.
My heart hurts. Is her womanhood going to kill her? She jokes later about the surgery, saying that they are going to give her a tummy tuck to make a new breast. She smiled but there is fear in her eyes.
She was crying the other day, softly. She just found out that she has cancer. She is a woman, scared, beautiful, afraid.
America is breast obsessed. The breast is a fixation of American culture. Women are never happy with what we have been given. We always want more or less, but we always want two.
I even joined the ranks of breast augmentation. I got rid of some. I was taught to hate my body before I had a body to hate. My relatives would say to me, “ if you turn out like your grandma, WE ARE GOING TO GET YOU A BREAST REDUCTION.” I did both. The boys loved it and I hated myself.
My cousins used to call a bra a double barrel sling shot.
Even clothing lines hate too much or too little. There is equipment to add a little or to squeeze ‘em in to make them smaller. What is enough? I don’t know but it is always a pair.
What are breasts? Mammary glands, used to feed offspring, all mammals have them.
I knew a beautiful woman, with perfect breasts, who bottle-feed her baby. What a waste of a body!
Breasts have been given such a difficult task, bearing the brunt of what makes a woman attractive, unattractive, confident or insecure. Whatever the conflict is too much or too little, sloppy, flabby, perky, beautiful: whenever they are mentioned, it is always in two’s. This I believe is true.
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