My Colored Opinion

I break up my day checking out Facebook. I admit it. I’m a bit of a voyeur. I’m curious. I like to know what people are up to. I like to smirk over silly commentary in their status updates. I like to see where someone is performing. I like to check out the minutiae of days that aren’t like my own.

It’s a big audience. I’m amazed at the people who actually pay attention to me. Who find my details and statuses interesting enough to read and take to heart. I’m sure there are an equal number who block my political tirades and esoteric geekdom. Whatever.

So… as many of you probably know - as most of my readers connect to this blog through Facebook - there is this thing about posting the color of one’s bra. I can’t believe I’m writing a blog about this. But there is more to what I want to say than an argument in a status proclamation.

First off, let me say I KNOW Breast Cancer is a horrible disease. It is a vile thing to which I should pay more attention, as I have a genetic link informing my predisposition. I think any nod to the eradication of a disease is great. Kind of. I mean… Cancer gets a lot of attention. There are walks and parties and … I even have a pink food processor to show an awareness and contribution to Breast Cancer. Pink isn’t my choice of color, but if it did take a wee bit of a profit away from Cuisinart and go to the American Cancer Society, okay. Good. I’ll chop my vegetables in a pink machine.

So… this disclosing one’s bra color on Facebook… does that do anything? Does that… change something? Are all those women really going to go out and get a mammogram? Are all the befuddled men going to stop, pause, and say, yeah I’m going to give money to help eliminate the disease? To pay for research? What, honestly, does it do?

I got turned off real fast by animal rights this summer because PETA uses naked women to ‘highlight’ an issue of cruelty. Um… okay, showing a bunch of dangerously thin models making out with vegetables is supposed to… do what exactly? Other than become a popular video on youtube for a couple laughs? Did that really change anything? Yeah, sure, it got attention. But it was so ridiculous, I think it undermined the issue.

Cancer isn’t about underwear. Cancer is pain. It is ugly, not lacy or frilly or a color of the rainbow. It is heartbreak and fear and agonizing treatment. It is the spirit that will survive. It is grief. It is holding a breath every year, every five years, every checkup to pray that it doesn’t come back and wind up the tick of life’s clock any faster. It is losing hair. It is seeing mortality up close and personal. It is watching a loved one fade away. It is so many awful things. So many beautiful things on the side of triumph. It isn’t a titillating piece of clothing.

Yes, we become complacent to it. We don’t do what we have to in order to prevent it. We don’t do enough to kill it. Baseball tickets or iTunes or a Starbucks coffee or a Victoria Secrets bra are a more important expense of funds. Trolling around Facebook and reading people’s posts is a more important consumption of time than thinking about this God awful disease.

We should think about it more. We really, really should. But for more than the giggly ten seconds it takes us to remember what is covering our boobs today. If Breast Cancer means enough for you to share your predisposition for lingerie, then make it mean enough for you to DO something. Because, honestly, this disease sucks.