as in the Susan G Komen 3 day. I’m doing it, in July in Massachusetts with my breastest friend Momma Kiss.
I wanted to write you stories of boobs. Mine specifically. Stories of training bras and nips slips. Flashing undercarriage cleavage. Stories of their glory days and the sad reality of their post nursing retirement.
But life with a 12 month old (who desperately does NOT WANT TO WALK but JUST CAN’T HELP HIMSELF) and a more confident and engaged pre-schooler is sucking the brain power from me. Seriously people, I’m lucky to remember the password to log on to this thing!
So instead, let me tell you why I walk: for the boobs. I love boobs. The itty bitty titties, the big gajonga jongas, the pancakes and the OMGARETHOSEREAL, the food source and comfort center for my second favorite thing in the world: babies. Sweater muffins, the twins, jugs, fun bags, cans, hooters.
Urban dictionaryÂ (I know you won’t believe me when I tell you I’ve never contributed) says this: Boobs: Â Things that make guys and the occasional chick do whatever the bearer of them wishes. They can bring great power and pleasure to whoever owns them.
But I also walk for the women I love and admire, for the survivors, for those who have lost the battle and for those who have lost a loved one. For Bunny, for her daughter in law, for A, for Celeste, for Wendy, (I need more cookies!).
The list goes on and so must the battle.
Please help us fight breast cancer. Please make a donation of any amount to help fight this bitch. Do it for the boobs!