As my veins grew black from the chemo, I pulled my sleeves down over my arms and decided to show leg instead. My big teeth, my crooked nose, my too-black hair became inconsequential. There was no time to wonder if my butt looked too big in what I was wearing, I just wanted to live. I wasn't reinventing, I was discovering what was always there. And my husband still loved me, the me that was left. My brain still worked and I got promoted at work. I still existed even though every fast-growing cancer cell was being killed by the chemotherapy. What was left was my spirit, raw and powerful and hanging on with claws, daring me to keep living. It was the confidence that came with knowing that I still existed as a woman, as a person, when my outer beauty fell away. It wasn't my new boobs (although I did get a perky Park Avenue set so I wouldn't have to worry about padding myself to look even every morning) that got me my inner cleavage. The surprise ending to my reality show was that after I lost everything, I began to see my true beauty. As "reality me" unfolded, my breast went from an A to a double DD (on one side!), and the steroids from the chemo left me a far-from-bronzed shade of green and 15 pounds plumper. While "The Swan" transforms an ugly duckling into an elegant, long-necked beauty, my breast cancer took an attractive 27-year-old woman and left her bald, lopsided and brokenhearted.
#SKYRIM I LOVE CLEAVAGE BELLY NODE TV#
Reality TV shows like the "The Swan" threaten it by trying to make us believe that a new do, a new nose, a new tummy and especially a new rack equal a better life. The Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition, Victoria's Secret catalogs and Janet Jackson's nipple flash challenge inner cleavage by making us feel like less in a breast-obsessed culture. It's hard to be an inner-cleavage gal when big boobs and big hair are all the rage. It is the beauty that exists when everything else has been stripped away. We're left with what I call "inner cleavage," and no plastic surgeon can sculpt it.
But something strange often happens when we lose the bling-the big boobs and big hair-of womanhood. We have traded in our beauty for some kind of cure. Her baldness reminded me of all the women I know who, like me, have sacrificed breasts and hair to try to save their lives. She was showing us the ravages, and the surprising beauty, revealed by breast-cancer treatments.
I think Melissa was saying something similar at the Grammys. It was my way of saying I knew I would still be a woman when I woke up with a blood-soaked bandage where my breast used to be. After all, I wore bright, red lipstick to my mastectomy. Here are some hilarious and somewhat charming pictures from the viral sensation, showcasing some of Little Dude's adventures and the comical situations he gets himself into.I understand why Melissa Etheridge bared her bald head at the Grammys a few weeks ago. While these are technically penis pics, they're much more adorable and charming than something you'd send while sexting. Little Dude is a good-natured Everyman who seems more than ready to dress up as a superhero, or dive head first into a cake. I don't think there's a dream that too big for Little Dude. It seems pretty obvious that there will be a book at some point such as Sh*t My Dad Says, or maybe even an animated show. Little Dude has been featured on The Huffington Post, Buzzfeed, and Metro.UK to name just a few, and is currently burning up the internet. Since you can't have funny penis pictures and NOT share them, Things My D*ck Does was born. The San Francisco-based photographer decided that his penis probably did whatever he could for fun, as penises are always up for a good time.Ĭalling his penis Little Dude (or LD), Big Dude (for lack of a real name) started taking pictures of his penis in all kinds of hilarious costumes and situations. What does a penis do while the rest of his body is asleep? That's what the anonymous photographer behind the Tumblr site Things My Dick Does wondered.
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