Angelina Jolie's double mastectomy makes me want to do porn.
She sort of already had that affect on me, being so stunningly sexy that I would enthusiastically go full tilt lesbian for her. She's not your average bear in any way, being outrageously hot, talented, adopting a whole pile of needy kids, and being a General Overall Do-Gooder (isn't that her title at the UN?). On top of all that, she's now courageously given up her boobs to outrun cancer AND has shared the experience publicly to raise awareness. The awareness-raising is certainly working. News organizations from NPR to TMZ are blaring the story nonstop. I've never heard of BRCA1 and had no idea that there was a predictive test for breast cancer. Now I'm like "can I get one on Thursday?" If a doctor told me I had an 87 percent chance of getting breast cancer, I would absolutely do what Jolie did and say "let's get rid of these puppies." But man, would I mourn my boobs! These jugs have done pretty good work over the years. (I'm Asian so they permanently need push-up help, but they are strong contenders for their weight class.) They look swell in a low-cut top and require far less maintenance than their vaginal Sister Down South.
Of course, I've shared typical wishful thinking that my boobs were bigger/higher/firmer/perkier/etc., but frankly I've never had any customer complaints about them. I don't have kids so have no idea how effective they are as a nutrition-delivery system, but as pure objects of fun, my breasts are A-Okay. Dare I say, they are delightful orbs.
Angelina Jolie's orbs were certainly the epitome of delight. But hers have been well documented over the years in many films, most notoriously in Gia, Original Sin and Taking Lives. They make multiple appearances in insufferable films from her early career. Ever heard of Cyborg 2 or Foxfire? Jolie's boobs are the only reason to watch them. Those famous ta-tas have even been motion-capture CG'd in Beowulf. Angelina Jolie's breasts are forever immortalized onscreen. Mine are not.
Which brings me to the very thinly stretched conclusion that I must do porn. Or try to get cast in some bad soft-core Skin-emax production. I joke in my stage act that I'm too old to get chosen for a Girls Gone Wild video. But I am NOT too old to star in a Vine video of a self breast exam. All this discussion of mastectomies has led me to the firm believe that I must record the loveliness of my boobs before they are potentially gone.
Any woman's decision to undergo a radical procedure to sacrifice such a visible and intimate part of their body is difficult and fraught with emotion. But I imagine there must be a small solace in knowing the image of your former breasts is preserved forever in the amber of film. I applaud your sacrifice and your bravery, Angelina Jolie!
Now, where's my camcorder?