I can get behind these. Figuratively speaking, of course!

Warning: This entry can only be described as crass and goofy.

Today we took a jaunt over to our old haunts (Brookline, MA, where we lived for 13 years) to visit a local and well-known vendor of ladies' intimates. I now own support bras. They are less uncomfortable than I thought they'd be, and make me look a little bit like this lady.

 (That's a Giant Robot named Aphrodite A, from a Japanese anime called Manzinger Z (also known as Trantor Z). Yes, her breasts are missiles. Yes, her pilot is a teenage girl. Yes, she only has the two weapons, and once they are fired she is weakened and helpless. Yes, the Manzinger Giant Robot has a lot more weapons, is piloted by a teenage boy, and always has to resue poor Aphrodite. Yes, there are bad guys and a mad scientist. Very silly, I know, but you'll never, ever forget Aphrodite A, will you?)

While there, I spotted a calendar put out by a group called All4One, which is four charities who do stuff for people with breast cancer. Most importantly, they provide free post-surgical bras and prostheses to underserved (read: poor) women. And every year they ask BRAtistes (sorry) and celeBRAties (sorry, sorry) to create art objects shaped vaguely like bras, make them up as a calendar, and auction them off at a gala Event.

See the galleries here.

Some of the bras are really art; others, even when they don't somehow have the Art vibe, are quite witty. I bought the calendar, and will investigate the charities involved further. If they deserve support -- and certainly their goal is small enough and worthy enough to be achievable and valuable -- I will let you know.

I did take mild issue with a quote from one of the artists. She made a bustier mosaic out of broken china, garnet rough, and other things. She is a breast cancer survivor herself, and wrote about how her life was "shattered" by breast cancer, and the broken pieces in the mosaic symbolize her broken, pieced-together life.

That's certainly one way to look at it. And maybe, if I was facing mastectomy, I'd feel the same. But right this instant minute I do not feel like my life is shattered, or is going to be shattered. I'm going to have surgery, and my left breast may come out of that surgery looking like it's been munched by weasels. Call me vain, but I'm more distressed by the thought of losing my hair as I pass through chemo and radiation.

I guess this falls into the category of, "It takes all kinds." The lady's art is quite good, and I don't need to share her emotions in order to empathize with their expression.

Speaking of which, a good friend has taken a bunch of pictures of me and will share them as jpegs. So I should soon be able to show you my pre-chemo hair in all its multi-hued glory.