Happy Breast Cancer Awareness Month

I don't really know how to discuss Breast Cancer Awareness. I strongly believe in fighting breast cancer, funding research, offering free or reduced-cost mammograms, and so forth, but I can't really get on the "Support Breast Cancer" bandwagon. I think it's because of the confusing structure. After all, I don't support breast cancer. Quite the opposite, really. In fact, it would be far more accurate to say that I despise breast cancer. Yet, somehow, my "Fuck Breast Cancer" campaign never really got off the ground. I guess it gave people the wrong idea.

Inappropriateness aside, I just wanted to give a little shout out to the breast. While I don't have breasts (at least not since I've started doing push-ups), I have always been a big fan of mammalian protuberances. From the time I was born to the present day, breasts have fed me, cuddled me, excited me, inspired me, and filled my life with wonder and delight. I am, in the idiom of our day, a breast man.

I discussed this with one of my friends, who's taking an obscenely long walk in honor of breast cancer awareness. She told me that, in order to increase male concern about breast cancer, she tells her male friends that they can get breast cancer too.

This seems disingenuous to me. Granted, some men can get breast cancer, but the number is statistically insignificant. Moreover, this argument is pretty cynical, as it assumes that men will only get involved in a cause if they feel that it personally affects them. By this logic, I should probably be more interested in Prostate Cancer Awareness Month, which was in September. After all, while there is little to no chance of a man getting breast cancer, prostate cancer is a real threat to the vaginally-challenged among us.

To be honest, though, I find it hard to get behind the prostate. Make of that what you will.

More to the point, it's not easy to find the hook in Prostate Awareness Month. The best thing I was able to come up with was "Prostate Cancer: Don't it make your brown eye blue?" For some reason, I don't think this is likely to inspire anyone.

Breasts, on the other hand, are pretty damn compelling, and I've often wondered why the Breast Cancer Awareness people are so loath to target the male fascination with those two (or one, or three) transcendent spheres. I guess the idea is that prurient, drooling, mindless appreciation of the breast is somehow sleazy. This argument is based in the notion that breasts are for feeding children, not for attracting men, and that men who are drawn to breasts are, therefore, infantile. Of course, this line of reasoning falls apart whenever one visits a Victoria's Secret. Are you going to tell me that the "Miracle Bra" is designed to capture that huge infant demographic that's pumping money into the economy?

Of course, one need not even visit a mall or scan the soft-core underwear pages in the Sears catalog to see the silliness in the child-feeding argument. After all, if you've ever met a well-endowed woman who was incapable of breast feeding, or a small-chested woman who was able to satiate her child, then you already know that breast size has fuck-all to do with feeding kids.

And if you're wondering what breasts are designed for, may I humbly direct you back to the aforementioned Victoria's Secret?

In Notting Hill, Julia Roberts' character more or less reiterates this entire argument when she says "What is it about men and nudity? Particularly breasts--how can you be so interested in them...I mean, they're just breasts. Every second person in the world has got them...they're odd-looking. They're for milk. Your mom's got them. You must have seen a thousand of them...what's the fuss about?"

Of course, she's saying this to a man who is clearly enthralled by her breasts. In case you missed the subtext, this is like a guy with a Corvette saying to a drooling admirer "What? It's just a car! Everybody has one!"

Anyway, this is my nod to National Breast Cancer Awareness month, to my Grandmother Viola and my Mother-in-Law (both of whom survived breast cancer), and to all the breasts that have made my life so much more enjoyable. I'd also like to give a little shout-out to another breast cancer survivor: Ann Jillian, one of my favorite actresses when I was a kid. I'd like to ask all my mammarily-enhanced friends to do what they need to do to preserve their breasts. PLEASE get a mammogram, inspect yourself regularly, and generally do your part to preserve one of humanity's greatest natural resources. And, to all my fellow breast admirers, I want to advise you to get your lazy asses off the sidelines. Take a walk for breast cancer awareness, or at least donate some money to a friend who's doing so. Encourage your wife, girlfriend, or a random stranger to get a mammogram. Offer to help out with breast inspections. Buy the t-shirt pictured above. In the name of everything holy, GET INVOLVED!!

On behalf of all the breast men, I thank you.