The scariest thing in October is not the haunted houses and trails that leave you breathless and afraid to turn off the light; nor is it the weight you’re guaranteed to gain after devouring endless supplies of Halloween candy and pumpkin spice lattes. To me, the most terrifying thing in October is the constant bombardment and inescapable color pink.
One in every eight women will be diagnosed with breast cancer at some point in their life. For over 225,000 moms, sisters, wives, girlfriends, and friends this year, October will never be the same.
Being surrounded by the baby pink, watching the NFL players don pink gloves and socks on Sundays, and the endless “Save the Tatas” wristbands blind us from seeing the true meaning of this month. I can’t help but roll my eyes at the people who use October as a time to crack jokes about boobs. The real purpose of Breast Cancer Awareness Month is not to get a kick out of saying “save second base”...it’s actually about doing something to catch this disease early. Girls, once you hit the age of 40, get an annual mammogram and conduct self-exams. If you have a family history of cancer, get checked out before you turn 40. The earlier you catch the disease, the better your chances are.
I've been around this disease my whole life. From family members who bear the scars, to neighbors who took on cancer for another round, to the mothers of best friends growing up, I am no stranger to this disease. It’s very easy to be caught up in the whole pink craze--I’m guilty of it myself. I’m a proud owner of the pink Lokai bracelet, some Susan G. Komen/Vera Bradley patterns, and a number of different awareness shirts.
After seeing what this cancer does not only to the individual diagnosed, but also to their families behind closed doors, I have decided that if I were to ever be one of the millions diagnosed, I would undergo a mastectomy upon receiving the diagnosis. Obviously this is a huge decision, and yeah, boobs are great and all that...but I would trade them in a heartbeat in exchange for watching my future kids grow up along with my husband. My grandma, as well as a close family friend made that very difficult decision, and I will always admire and respect them for that reason. It takes a lot of emotional strength to remove a part of your body. It’s even more difficult to remove an organ that society is so obsessed with and that is such a huge part of your femininity. To do what they did takes a different kind of courage.
After reading this, I don’t want all of you to go off on a pink protest. I myself will be outfitted in even more pink than I normally wear on a daily basis. In fact, I want you to embrace the spirit of the month of prevention. I just ask that when you put on that wristband, that shirt, or that baby pink, that you pause and think for a moment: Who are you wearing that pink for? What hell did that person go through? What will you do to increase awareness and promote prevention not only this month, but year round?
Think about the women who are staring death in the face and are surrounded by darkness, not shades of pink. Quite literally, think before you pink. Then, go out and fight for them, clad in pink.
