There is a lot of focus on breasts right now. Yes because of poor Kate Middleton but also because of the approaching plethora of pink month. I don’t mean to come across as cynical but I am a little. That’s why I love the scar project so much. Breast cancer is not pretty and pink. It’s not about what we share, its about what we don’t often share. It’s sore and ugly and about survival and beauty because of it. I went to a breast cancer fundraiser on friday and had a chat with a lovely woman who when discovering I had had a mastectomy queried why I hadn’t had a bilateral done and had two lovely matching boobs. Seriously. Pretty and pink it’s not. They are lovely to me because of what they represent, but not as she thinks. They have no feeling. They are scarred. They are not a choice. They are because we might have died if not. I asked her if she realised a mastectomy means removing everything. Nipple and all. I think I over shared before how my nipples and the sensation of them matter to me. She mentioned how yes, she understands, her friends boob job left her with no feeling too. No, sweetheart you don’t understand. I don’t mean to be mean but wearing a pink ribbon on your chest does not mean you understand. And I really hope you never do. It reminded me of a dear friend who in trying to make me feel better when I was still trying to make sense of my diagnosis, said, her husband had said something which made sense to her. He had said, well at least its just her boob, its not like its a limb that she needs. Again, seriously? Anyway cut Kate Middleton some slack. If I had her boobs, no matter who I was, I’d bear them for the world to see.