A taste of ash

My mother had breast cancer the first time at a relatively young age. So she had a breast removed at age fifty or fifty one. She later had breast cancer a second time involving a lumpectomy. 

After her mastectomy, my father told my mother "You don't need breast reconstruction for my sake. If you want it for you, you can do it. But you don't need to do that for me." even though he was twelve years older than her and she got married relatively young and he more or less owned her ass and could have ever so politely and nicely insisted she endure more surgery because he wanted her to look a certain way.

I once talked with Genevieve, a troubled trans youth I was friends with, about how men in a lot of heterosexual relationships can just politely say "I would prefer..." or something similar and it's an implicit threat that "If you don't agree with me and don't want to nicely go along with my preferences, your sorry ass can be out in the street."

To my SHOCK, she immediately got it and said "He doesn't have to (say that)." Because most of the world pretends it doesn't KNOW that with most women de facto being financially dependent on a man, she's not likely to take a stand for anything she's not ready to lose her current lifestyle over.

My mother never had breast reconstruction.

For years, she wore extremely old bras with essentially ruined elastic in them because newer bras made her swelling worse. That's a debilitating side effect of having lymph nodes removed under the arm that a lot of breast cancer survivors endure and it's one of the reasons I've written elsewhere about my opinions that women need better options for supporting the girls.

I'm generally intact for a woman my age and only missing a few teeth and not that many for a woman my age. I'm covered in mostly minor skin-deep scars from head to toe but overall I look pretty good for a woman my age and I'm fairly spry as well.

But I am compelled to keep my hair short for medical reasons and I wear no makeup for the same reason. Although I've had some long distance relationships over the years where men annoyingly SWEAR they are madly in love and desperately want to marry me, no one has ever shown up and I've been CELIBATE for over twenty years.

To the best of my knowledge, there are currently no selfies of me online and I've been dirt poor for a lot of years, including spending several years homeless while living in a culture where Disney and everyone else tells you constantly that a beautiful woman will be set for life because her Prince Charming will pay her bills. All she has to do is be drop dead gorgeous, dress well and be some nebulous concept of "lovable" without defining that in any meaningful terms because the implication is generally that she's merely a sex object and marrying well is a polite form of prostitution where women are set for life if they look good and marry a rich man.

My poverty and empty bed are stronger arguments than the empty promises of men who adored me from afar and supposedly loved me but never actually met me in person that I must be failing as a woman.

I'm pretty sure successful men trend towards picking women who are social assets that make a nice accessory when worn to public events as a bauble hanging off their arm and if their wife is my age and not a drop dead gorgeous fashion plate but he's still successful, it's because they got married decades ago, not last week.

I'm not averse to being "the next Twiggy" and dramatically altering beauty standards for planet Earth, but my ego isn't that big and I don't have any expectation that's how things will go. I cringe at the idea of ever being in the public eye because I know the price women pay for beauty and I know I'm not willing to pay it.

I know how horrifically cruel and unethical people are and I know I've never gotten traction as a blogger, in part because people don't want to hear the uncomfortable truth. They would rather let Kim Kardashian help ruin their lives for entertainment and profit than listen to someone speaking uncomfortable truths and looking for solutions.

From the neck down, I'm fairly intact compared to most women my age and many women younger than me. From the neck up, my hair is too short, my face is bare and not made up and not going to pass muster for selfies much less for openly hostile paparazzi looking to make a buck at someone else's expense, plus I have bad teeth.

I imagine my bed will remain empty and my bank account will too because I'm no Cinderella and I don't aspire to be such.

No matter how many men imagine they find me wildly attractive in theory, in practice I'm not anyone they want to admit to having a boner for to other people and the opinions of other people will matter more to them when deciding whom to marry than what I look like naked.

If you are a woman and reading this, I hope you have a man in your life like my father willing to say "You don't need to endure more surgery for my sake." and I hope you can read my writing and start placing more value on your health and start paying less of a price for beauty while still feeling okay about yourself.

Maybe your granddaughter or great granddaughter will live in a better world but I have no fantasies this world will ever be good to me for refusing to go along with its shit.

It hasn't been so far and while the past doesn't have to determine the future in that way, it's the way to bet.