Couple of things going on this morning in my little brain.
First, my sister (from whom I am estranged, hopefully temporarily) sent me an email informing me that the cast of 70's show "Eight is Enough" would be on TV. OK, this should be fun, and sis sent me an email that wasn't scathing! So I am watching the cast, googling trivia on the show, nice walk down memory lane.
But what about the Mom on the show? I didn't even realize she had ever been on the show. Turns out, the actress Diana Hyland played the Mom for four episodes and then pretty much dropped dead of...breast cancer. She was 41 years old. She was working and living and got too sick to continue filming and a few weeks later (maybe months) was dead. Maybe that doesn't qualify as "dropping dead" since she did have a few weeks in between becoming too sick to work and dying. But I keep telling my kids that I won't "drop dead" of breast cancer and that story sounds like cutting it pretty close.
Of course, I mean no disrepect to Ms. Hyland or her family. I had the same reaction when I heard about the lady from "Survivor" that recently died of breast cancer. I just need to believe that I will have plenty of warning if the cancer gets me. Which sounds silly when I think it. No one has warning about being hit by a moving...whatever (fill in the blank). People drop dead of heart attacks, strokes, tramatic brain injuries, impalings, etc, etc. Cancer does not mean that I am entitled to a endearing death bed scene with friends and family surrounding me.
OK, now that I have that in perspective. (The feeling of entitlement is a hot button topic of mine and when I see myself feeling entitled to anything, it smacks me on the nose.)
Second issue, the whole boob thing. Someone in internet land is having reconstruction because her husband had an affair with someone with two boobs. Someone else in internet land was dogging a young woman who had a biltateral mastectomy since she carried the gene and wanted to avoid cancer. He said that she would never find a husband without boobs, blah blah blah.
Since I have still not made a decision about reconstruction, this stuff really drives me nuts. I am sure I have seen way to many pics of boobs lately. Real boobs, lifted boobs, scarred boobs, reconstructed boobs, nipple-less boobs, tattooed boobs, barbie boobs, good boobs, bad boobs, boobs, boobs, boobs. Even the word looks stupid.
I am hoping to meet an "ass man". Or maybe a one-armed man. Surely these boobs cannot be all that important. Maybe I just took them for granted since I had pretty decent boobs for a pretty good while. I love grabbing a handful of cute man ass, but I don't think I would dismiss a man if he had no ass cheek.
Maybe I should spend more time looking at pics of cute man ass, I think I am all boobed out.