America is full of boobs.
Let’s face it, we just are.
Different kinds of boobs. Big boobs. Little boobs. Perky boobs. Hanging boobs. Pierced boobs. Private boobs. Outspoken boobs. Happy boobs. Sad boobs. Idiot boobs. Laughing boobs. Snarling boobs.
I could go on.
Some of our boobs are parts.
Some of our boobs are characters.
But everywhere, there are boobs.
And many of the boobs are doing something to help the other boobs.
For the last two days I’ve seen posts about local health care facilities who submitted their videos for a competition. A competition to save the boobs.
It’s the “Pink Glove Dance” competition.
And it is incredible.
Boobs across America are joining together to make fun and love filled videos. All in the hopes to save…..us.
It started with the Pink Glove Dance.
And it has grown in to a movement to help develop a cure for a terrible disease. It is promoting awareness, education and encouragement.
People are dancing and singing and sometimes just looking downright like boobs to send a message of love.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I can’t watch the original without crying. Then I went on to watch the contest videos and it occurred to me…. thousands of people are gathering in hospitals, schools, healthcare centers, nursing homes with people from all imaginable walks of life. They gather to work together. To help someone else.
Some are doing it in memory of someone they loved. And lost.
Some are doing it in honor of someone they love. Who survives.
Some are doing it in honor of someone struggling now.
For someone not yet diagnosed.
For someone they do not know.
For the baby girl that is born today. Hoping she learns of breast cancer in history class.
I watched the videos last night after my martial arts class, this morning while I rode my exercise bike. This afternoon while I ran on the treadmill. While I’m watching, and singing along poorly, it suddenly dawned on me. What am I doing all of the exercise for if I’m not doing all that I can do to protect myself. And my family.
All of these people are trying to get boobs like me to pay attention. Prevent. Test. Don’t get it. If I get it make sure I know it early. If I get it early I have a country full of boobs willing to sing and dance, raise money, raise hope, and work towards a cure. A country full of boobs letting me and the rest of the boobs know we will not be alone. A country full of boobs to take care of me.
It only took about fifty of these videos for it to dawn on me that it was directed at me. And all of you. Get your mammograms. Do your self exams.
Don’t be a boob.
This boob called her doctor’s office to get her mammogram scheduled.
From my boobs to all of you boobs. Thank you. I got the message.
Now….what about you boobs?
The Chatter Blog 