Is that a lump in your breast, or are you just drinking way too much caffeine
Breasts are so much fun, guys.
The following are just a few reasons why breasts are pretty much enjoyed by everyone on the planet:
Breasts are super fun to look at!
They feel way squishy and soft.
And there are myriad of awesome slang terms for breasts: tits, ta-tas, boobs, chetsicles, the girls, bazongas, fun bags, etc. (Fun fact: I typically call my breasts “annoying lumps of fat”.)
Guess what? My annoying lumps of fat recently deceived me. Well, I guess they only scared the living heck out of me, really.
It was a typical Thursday night. I was lounging around, feeling my chest fat. I reached around my left fat mound and felt this thingy. This stupid, round, lumpy, thingy.
Upon feeling said thingy, I reacted to its presence similar to how I handle most upsetting things in my life – I cried and envisioned my body dying and decaying. I then ignored all phone calls, texts, and messages, and I stared at the ceiling for 4 hours.
After my initial idiotic freak-out, I calmed down and did what any overanxious journalist would do – I researched the heck out of WebMD. My search results yielded the following information:
— Under 7 percent of all breast cancer cases occur in women under 40 years old.
— A personal history of breast cancer or some non-cancerous breast diseases.
— A family history of breast cancer, particularly in a mother, daughter, or sister.
— History of radiation therapy to the chest before age 40.
— Some studies have suggested that recent use of oral contraceptives (the Pill) results in a very slight increased risk for developing breast cancer over those who have never taken them.
I felt better because no one in my family has had breast cancer. But you see that last one? That thing about birth control? I immediately took that as, “you want to have sex but not have a baby, so you’re going to get cancer and die.”
The next day, I called my doctor’s office to make a boob squeezing appointment. To my amazement, I got in immediately. (I assumed all the doctors would be on vacation, drunk on tomato juice and vodka.)
While waiting it the doctor’s room, I read my John Waters book. I had reached the chapter about gay, Marine porn. It all felt oddly appropriate.
20 minutes later, the lady doctor entered the room, delicately shook my hand, rubbed her hands together in a futile attempt to warm her fingers, and started to squeeze my boob:
Dr.: “Do you drink a lot of caffeine?”
Dr.: “Well, that’s probably it.”
She said it was probably a cyst. It will come and go, and I will have to keep an eye (actually, a hand) on it, and if it changes, I call her immediately.
I know that, like, eighty percent of breast lumps aren’t cancerous, but I’m the kind of girl that doesn’t mess around. After all, I’ve had some weird things happen to me (almost died during surgery, woke up during surgery, had a crazy chicken pock on my head that had to be surgically removed…).
So, ladies. Do the monthly exam. Even if you’re 29. Just feel your tits. It’s easy! Track your lumps and don’t mess around.