I was talking to T about this not too long ago, and I decided... I don't find anything grosser than mastectomies. You know those silly conversations couples have about "Would you love me if I got caught in a fire", etc.? If my person ever asked me, "Would you still love me if I had a mastectomy," well, of course, I'd answer, "Yes," but secretly in my mind I'd be adding, "but I'd never be able to look at you again." And I can't even imagine what it would be like to be in bed with someone after that. There's a scene in The Family Stone with a mastectomied Diane Keaton being held by Craig T. Nelson (Craig T. Nelson!) and I found it uttlerly revolting. It's completely unreasonable, but whatever. Girls, don't get cancer! Yuck!
In other news:
"Why had she told me? She told me to wound me, or out of habit or to drive me mad. I didn't care if it was a clue or if it was a plea or if it was a tease. No. She told me so I would stop her, and of course I would."
What? Well, maybe. Who knows? It was something I once trained for, but now? Would I even be doing it for the right reasons? P.S. Anna Nicole Smith is dead and it's nearly as weird as Saddam being dead.