I’m cranky. Today is the first day of breast cancer awareness month and everywhere I look some asshole is slapping a pink ribbon on their crappy product and calling it charity. At the grocery store yesterday, I saw a bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade festooned with a pink ribbon. Really? Does no one care that drinking ups your risk of breast cancer? Yes, one must drink in excess but, honestly, isn’t that the point of making alcohol taste like pink lemonade? Have these people no shame?
Lord help me, it’s going to be a LONG month.
Instead of kvetching about everyone else making a buck, why not start to exploit my own “survivor status.” For instance, my short but snappily illustrated article in this month’s O Magazine is about new legislation aimed at ending the practice of “drive-thru mastectomies.” When my editor tossed me this softball assignment last July, I had to swing. Who better to cover this topic than a gal who detoured through the mastectomy drive-thru lane not once but twice! Who cares that they “straightened up” my story by editing out a mention of Mary or that they inserted a huge error into why I needed to revisit the OR in the first place. ‘Cause, hey, I was only too happy to cash the check. And, after all, it’s only money. Right?