Can you imagine the whining we would hear if men had to screen for testicular cancer by having their balls put in machine that compresses them like pancakes? Most women I know have some sort of a mammogram anxiety story, even if they are lucky enough not to have had any experience with breast cancer.
It's the season of dance and piano recitals, of high school and college graduations, of award ceremonies, of endless summer little league games. We are busy with celebrations, installations, lectures, plays, meetings, seminars, dinners. But why, for goodness sakes, does everything have to be so long?
Though many of us 50 and over women are more accepting of our bodies than we have ever been, the act of bathing suit shopping still gets to us. Though we may be stoic, viewing our bodies in the soft lighting of our home bathrooms, before the full-length mirror under the harsh lights of a dressing room, even the best of us crumble.
'Did I ever tell you I almost died in this pond, Mom?' my son asked as we were having a lovely walk in the woods near my home. It is fun to shock a parent who believes their kid is close to perfect. I have shocked my own mother of course about the things I did when I was young -- and just like her, it turns out I was sometimes clueless.