Some of my friends warned me that mammograms hurt but I, personally, don’t find them painful at all. Yet. Uncomfortable, yes, and maybe I’m not as sensitive as my friends but I don’t think mammogram squashing has anything on other breast perils.
Have you ever leaned over to root through a drawer and caught yourself in it just as you slammed it shut. Well, one of my breasts knows what that feels like and the other one doesn’t ever want to.
And those darn pinching bi-fold closet doors. Sadly, both of my “girls” have suffered green and blue bruising because I was, as usual, in an almighty hurry to get dressed and get going.
It’s amazing how children simply see breasts as sustenance or squishy pillows for their comfort. At the age of three one of my nieces was visiting overnight with her father and asked me: “Will you lay down with me, auntie, ’til I get to sleep?”
“Sure,” I said. Once we were both lying down, she put her head on my chest. Then she decided it didn’t feel right. So she grabbed my breasts and moved them all around until she figured they were arranged exactly how she wanted. She laid her head on them and said:
“There, just like my mom.” I laughed and she did, too.
Fast asleep in minutes, she looked so sweet, I hated to disturb her but eased myself out from the bed and went out to the living room where everyone laughed about the story. We still do, but it was just another example of how practically children see our body parts.
A doctor friend tells me that breasts are supposed to be massaged regularly and I had no clue about this, never even thought of it before. Crazy, huh? Living with the girls all these years and never thought of it!
My friend claims that due to regular massage and not wearing bras as much as we do in North America, breast cancer rates in Europe are lower than ours. I didn’t research this before I wrote this piece so I have no way of substantiating his claim. But I did find it interesting.
It led to me massaging my own breasts and I can’t tell you how good it feels. It’s kind of a crazy thing but simply massaging them in the way I would any other part of my body not only relaxes me but leaves me with the sensation that I’ve improved circulation or something, my breasts feel more “alive.” (and I don’t mean the nipple, either, lol, Just FYI: I work around it:)
The fact is they are body parts like all others. I don’t assess my friends on what size bra they are anymore than I would consider sizing a man up for what’s in his pants. It’s what is on the shoulders that matters to me. If we start getting all hung up on one part or another, we’re missing out on the person. That person might even be ourselves.
So, shoulders back and let those girls be proud to be on your chest. Who knew that simply massaging mine and thinking about them, could bring me to writing this? I know one thing for sure, it feels so good, I’m going to massage mine regularly from now on. I feel kind of like a kid who’s just made the most fascinating discovery about her own body. I know, I know. It’s probably not news to most reading this. But I’m thinking if it makes me feel this good, everyone should do it.
Whatever gifts we each have, let’s celebrate it just because it is attached to us, part of what comprises our beautiful, unique selves.
One of our wonderful CCC members (Crazy Chick’s Club) said she liked to clean house nude.
Trust me, it is not wise to indulge in this practise if you are using a Vileda Bee mop and lean over to wring it out in the pail … yes, you guessed it. Another nasty pinch compliments of the conveniently (or inconveniently) located wringing handle… apparently I will never learn.
Well, that is not entirely so. I did learn that I will never try cleaning house in the nude again. Some memories are just too painful to revive. Still, whenever and wherever possible for me, all bras are off!
Originally written and posted (c) June 28 2011.
Reposted today during Breast Cancer Awareness Month in honour of cancer survivors everywhere and in loving memory of everyone we’ve lost to cancer. For more information: