You were looking for revenge that this has been a pretty much men only thread and thought you were getting this revenge by painting a men unfriendly picture.
jonmc: agreed, jouke. but they do have to big enough to swung back and forth against my head like sandbags.
it's even better if they're big and firm enough to bop away at like a boxing speedbag.
No, this is not my sisterhood. For me at least, breast cancer will never be a source of identity or pride. As my dying correspondent Geni wrote: "IT IS NOT O.K.!" What it is, along with cancer generally or any slow and painful way of dying, is an abomination, and, to the extent that it's manmade, also a crime. This is the one great truth that I bring out of the breast-cancer experience, which did not, I can now report, make me prettier or stronger, more feminine or spiritual-only more deeply angry. What sustained me through the "treatments" is a purifying rage, a resolve, framed in the sleepless nights of chemotherapy, to see the last polluter, along with, say, the last smug health insurance operative, strangled with the last pink ribbon. Cancer or no cancer, I will not live that long of course. But I know this much right now for sure: I will not go into that last good night with a teddy bear tucked under my arm.
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