I don’t really have to say it… you all know what it means when suddenly everything is pink. And I do mean everything: from teddy bears to football cleats and from candles to hammers. I think I can safely say that we are quite aware of Breast Cancer.
A horrible thing, cancer. Pretty much regardless of the type. My grandfather died of lung cancer, and my aunt battled breast cancer and is (fortunately) doing well. So I apologize if I seem cold. (Actually, I’m freezing… soccer practice again) But I really can’t help but be annoyed by the pink explosion that comes every October. I was never a huge fan of pink, and until Buttercup came there wasn’t much call for that sort of thing. And then there was the “boobie” issue. Touch them, feel them, stare because you care.
No one who has stared at my chest has been concerned with my wellness. Shut up. Unless you have no problem saying it to your mom, don’t say it.
That being said, I am totally okay with folks raising money for Breast Cancer Research. I sell PartyLite, and tonight is their Lite up the Nite fundraiser for the American Cancer Society. (Thankfully it has nothing to do with the Komen people. I really wouldn’t be able to support that. I won’t go into it here.) It’s not about boobs and cotton candy pink blech. It’s just about candles and the ACS. I like that.
Oh, and you guys at the NFL? Get yellow flags for the refs, for crying out loud. It’s getting confusing. It can have a pink edge, maybe, but like the boys at ESPN say, Come On, Man!