|This is a sponsored post.|
Awesome boobie shirt provided by Handmade Escapade
This is a shirt of her own design and you can get your own in pink (like mine), white or black for $20. Or you can go big and grab one in Camo for $25. Katy is printing these out herself, and she is donating $5 from every shirt to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. Like I said this is a Handmade/Homegrown/Grass Roots fundraiser. I'm always one to think I should be doing something to make a difference for someone else. Well Katy is a obviously a gal with moxie and is doing something I've only thought about.
Breast Cancer awareness month has always hit close to home. When I was five, my mother's best friend battled breast cancer. I remember that she lost her hair, and lots of weight. I remember when she had to have a mastectomy when I was eight. I even remember going bra shopping with her, and knowing she didn't have one of her boobs. Sandy taught me tenacity. She taught me about fear, and illness, and sometimes about grief. Sandy also taught me how to bake amazing sugar cookies, and decorate them at her kitchen table. Sandy took me on BART for the first time, and to the Haight. Sandy taught me to love antiques, old books, and art. Sandy became a grandma just about a year ago.
She is a survivor.
Last January I had a mammogram. I had found a little lump. It felt like a peanut. And for a moment I freaked. I morbidly played the what if game. I cursed and cussed. I felt that my boobs were betraying me yet again. As if failing at breast feeding wasn't enough. I was mad, then hurt, then scared. It's crazy how something the size of a peanut can do that. It made me think about things I didn't want to think about. But I thought about them, and wrote about them, and then I had a mammogram. Turns out it was just some fluid. Just a little something to rattle my cage and say, "Keep Calm and Self Exam".
This summer one of my dearest friends found out her mother has breast cancer. Our conversations have gone from boys and beers, to babies and diapers, to chemo and radiation. Not anything we could have ever imagined. But I guess that's what happens when you grow up. Now I'm calling to check in with her about her mom's surgeries, her treatments, if she needs more smoothie recipes.
Breast Cancer isn't picky. It cares nothing of race, religion, economics, or age. Breast Cancer is a total asshole. There are major corporations that are doing great things in the name of awareness and fundraising. And that's great, buy some yogurt, smart water, or some really trendy polish. I'm just asking you to do one thing. Wear one of these shirts and post it to Instagram. Tag me, Tag Katy. Tag a survivor or a warrior. Let's do this. Let's raise money, have fun
and remember our Breast Friends.