Boobs, boobs, boobs.

The love affair with the female breast has existed as long...well as long as females have had breasts. Now, don't kid yourself; as much as we men love boobs, women love them even more. The power of the mamary gland is something we all (well the lucky ones) get very familiar with the delivery of warm, nourishing food in the very early stages of life. Somehow, the size and pride of said glands transmitted a message of health, vitality and a standard of female excellence that is out of scope with their actual benefit once past this original intention. Boobs become sexual. Boobs become the very essence of female power and control. As there is this mutual love-in with these great bumps, it was natural that the two camps - those who own the boobs, and those who want to touch them, have joined in a strangely justifiable way to ghettoize all other forms of cancer over the past five years. Breast cancer is the darling of every fundraiser, corperate teaming, ground roots campaigning, and government commitment - at the expense of other form of this insideous disease. so here is a shout out to Joe Boxer and the Princess Margaret Hospital for their fundraising campaign to combat cancers below the waist. Sure - the ones that kill guys too, like colo-rectal and testicular cancers, as well as the epitome of womanhood - and the one that fell my hero, my mother at the age of 59 - ovarian cancer.
Thank you for doing the right thing at the right time.