Tell us something.
When was the last time you opened up your browser and saw a beautiful image of a body shape that looked just like yours?
When was the last time you saw an image of skin markings that looked just like yours? When was the last time you saw an image of breasts that looked just like yours? An ass that looked just like yours?
Unless you’re a celebrity look alike and have real time Photoshop (like, a program that follows and moves with you) I’m going to guess that for the majority of us… it’s been a while. It’s been a while since we’ve (or maybe we’ve never) seen our body positively represented within that overwhelming flood of images that fills our social media feeds, televisions, and magazines.
And we want to change that.~The Expose Project.
Dearest family, friends, lover and Readers of Scarlett,
I welcome you to another post that I wish and hope has let you laugh, be shocked because I am a big fan of shocking you but most of all, wanting another piece. Or in simple words, hungry and craving for more like I am currently craving for pancakes, strawberries with maple syrup and bacon.Before I begin this new blog post, I wish to sincerely apologise for not having posted for the remaining weeks of September.
I have no exciting excuses that nearly everyone has used in their lives for instance “I was late because of traffic’ or ‘my dog ate my homework?’. As previously discussed, the Humog lives with Lois and Red even after futile attempts of kidnapping him, I feel that I am slowly turning into Cinderella or Snow White because the only thing that seems to hang around my place is birds.
Now considering I made a deal with myself that I would try to update twice a month if not more, I have successfully failed my own goal I set at New Year. In fact, there have been a couple of months so far where I have posted only once but that has been due to family issues, deaths and illness.
However with 160 hours of clinical placement to be completed with only the weekends off, I was more than a little tired and therefore not in the mental place to write something.
Because I know that if I had posted something and then later on came back to read it, I would have either been disappointed at what had been said, caused WWIII to occur within my household or I would have thought ‘a little padded cell is pretty spesh’. To be honest, I needed a break from my life and also with what has been happening. On the other hand since I am caring about my new readers, welcome to the ever entertaining and exciting world of Scarlett O’Chunky, I promise I normally update twice a month.
For those who have been here from the beginning or sometime between “I’ve started nursing’ to ‘one year to go, baby!’, do you remember the blog post that was titled When The Nursing Student Becomes The Patient?
I have a status update upon that subject.The reason why I didn’t update for the rest of last month is due to the fact, my body decided on throwing a massive hissy fit like a two year old on my last day of clinical placement. And I ended up in triage as a patient for a couple of hours. Like normal I leaving out valid information such as I may… no, cross that out and change it to had been experiencing chest pain for a couple of days before being admitted. All because I had been originally thinking that it may have been caused by reflux and bad indigestion.
I know that all of you will be sitting there saying, ‘for someone who is studying to become a nurse, you would think she would automatically take herself to the hospital to be treated’. And we all know what that answer would be, mhm, no.
Moving along, after I admitted to my facilitator that I have been experiencing chest pains, I was ordered down to triage to be checked over. After having an ECG and chest x-ray, I was told by my senior doctor who looked as if she had just stepped out of high school (harsh much, S?) that I was suffering from inflammation of the ribcage. Apart from that, I was being discharged to my little old self. With the advice of: if you suffer anymore of these pains, I suggest you automatically came back to the hospital for medical treatment.
That was after being informed by both Shawn, my facilitator and my doctor that I was NOT to return to the ward and continue working as a student.After much debating and who had superior authority over the other, I packed my bags only to spend the next twenty minutes signing documents. Informing Shawn of how an amazing facilitator he was that was after being lectured on how to tick the correct box. May have stated at the beginning that he was a shit facilitator before crossing out boxes and changing them, however I say in my defence: I was smacked off my face on pain relief and I felt incredibly tired all of a sudden.
Overall, I informed him that he needed to work on his abalone hunting story. Which can I just say after watching the Discovery channel, who the fuck catches abalone with a spear?
Sad to say that his previous placement (UCA) actually believed him and told him that he was ‘awesome as for catching abalone with a spear’. Idiots.
After signing the documents, informing Shawn that I was fine to go home and that I wasn’t going to go anywhere else, I walked out the hospital a free woman who had completed her 160 hours. Or I like to believe so when I tuck myself into bed at night. And promptly called Lois to inform her in case uni decided on alerting the media that I had been in hospital. Cutting this short: Lois freaked the fuck out, drove down, I crashed for the weekend as I was beyond fucked and the chest pains were painful.
I know that we still have two months to go before I ring in the New Year with a bottle of bubbly and a random smooch from someone, I am hoping that next year will bring a healthier lifestyle with less hospital and doctor visits. Not that I don’t like waiting around for needles to poke and prod me but half of the time, it is always a woman who is doing it.
Disappointment on my behalf since I don’t swing that way but then I am sure if I got a guy who was willing to take a vial of my blood, I wouldn’t know how to have a conversation with him without blushing and acting like I didn’t have a brain.Ladies and Gentlemen, this is why I am a single gal. This is simply because I cannot string a sentence together when I may possibly like someone, without acting like an idiot and getting all tongue twisted.
With that, I actually welcome you to the real blog.
This time last year I was counting down the weeks that I had left before I walked away for good from the little town I had lived in, boxes stacking up against the walls in my bedroom and the ending of an era in my life. However, I found myself sitting at my desk where most of the action happened to this blog such as writing and editing, thinking of plots, stories that had to be told and others that wanted to be told.
While staring at a pile of papers that I was sorting and needed to be sorted properly. These papers that held a variety of things such as what lectures needed to be completed, exam dates, plans for Lois’ 21stbirthday and the flyer announcing that there was free breast screening happening at the local hospital.
I remember smiling at the lady who handed me the flyer one afternoon while I was walking to work, even though I was under the age of 50. And to be honest, I didn’t even make a comment such as “I’m only 23” but rather I smiled back and tucked the flyer into my handbag. Which I found myself pouring over later that night when I had tucked all of my resident’s into bed and wondered if this was once again, another sign after the light bulb incident that had me running for my life. This flyer soon triggered the juices of creative writing and one of my favourite posts after Le Sexe Est La Vie, called Darling, Touch My Breasts! was soon created.
This had you reading and peering over your glasses before sending me emails and messages. Fast forward twelve months and I am now facing the beginning of October and a new blog for the month.
I no longer reside in the country town that had cowboys walking the main road, horses tied up in front of the local watering hole and tumble weeds drifting across the dirt road. But rather I reside in the western suburbs of the ever busy city of Brisbane and with that, a new writing persona has been created than what was originally put down onto paper.
With that and the branching liberation of freedom I have been experiencing, I have joined a few pages that has made me raise my eyebrow in agreement or disagreement at what has been stated. One of these pages that happen to be dedicated to feminism and the liberation of supporting female rights has helped inspire this blog post.
A few months ago after my house mates left with the front door slamming behind them, I settled myself in the lounge room with a cup of coffee in the relatively calm of silence and started browsing the homepage of my Facebook account. Scrolling down, I came across a thumbnail showing a woman along with the wordings ‘The Expose Project’.
Clicking onto the link and waiting for it to download, I took a mouthful of coffee and felt it pool in my mouth as my eye widened in disbelief and appreciation in what I saw.
This photo is one of the many photos that were listed on The Expose Project website and with that, I become a fan of the other photos listed.
However each and every time, my attention, thoughts and finger came back to this one photo. I don’t know if it is because of the fact that this lady appears to be genuinely in love with her body, the fact that she is being photographed for the world to see her or that she is just downright a happy natured person.
Like many women when confronting this photo, the first thing that popped into mind was ‘I absolutely love this photo’. Then was it followed by, ‘wow, she has such an amazing smile’. Which I finally said out loud to no one in general or probably it was to myself, who knows, before taking a screen shot and sending it to The Sheriff titled ‘I want her boobs. #boobcrush #girlcrush’.
After spending the last few months staring at this photo constantly in preparation of what I was about to do because I have no shame, hello toilet selfie, I can claim that I am in love with this woman’s photo. Simply because of this woman’s sassy attitude, the appreciation factor that is she not a twig but rather a healthy sized, curvy woman who may I say from a straight woman’s point of view, I could and would become a lesbian for her.
Move over Nigella, you are sharing your pedestal with a complete stranger.
This leads me to saying god bless fuller sized women with perfect bodies featuring their hips, thighs and for you gentlemen out there who like a decent size: boobs.
I also feel that this picture has inspired my craving and wanting for October to arrive back when it was July/August because like a light bulb going off in my head, I had an idea for Breast Cancer Awareness. Now since it is October, I am finally able to do what I have been dreaming about for all these months. Australia is particularly fond of October as it brings awareness to Breast Cancer as it is known to be the Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
This is where we are told via television, social media and well me, to go and freely check your boobs whether you are in the shower and at the desk at work….actually maybe do it in the toilet. Or come up to your partner, take off your shirt and proudly stand there in front of him and say “Darling, touch my breasts!”
Trust me, he will think he has gone to heaven and died but rather you are getting your boobs felt up by your partner and your mojo is starting to become awakened. On that note, you go girl! Get that groove on and show him who is boss and that is you. Why not excuse yourself for twenty…scratch that thirty minutes, quickly shave your legs and your bikini area, throw on a little perfume, madly light some candles and pose seductively on your bed. On that note: Do not fall asleep and go for gold!
As I stated last year in my first blog for breast cancer awareness, I first discovered what October really meant many years ago and since then, have become a firm supporter and believer in the rights for women in regards to health. Especially when it comes to getting their breasts screened for any lumps or bumps, even if they are within the inner breast tissue and possibly cannot be felt by human fingers. This became more set in stone after living in a rural country town where the nearest decent hospital was an hour away on a good day. And whether or not women had private or public health care, I believe that all women should be allowed to have a free mammogram and that the age should be lowered from 50 to 45.
Especially if any female has a high chance of getting breast cancer at any age, particularly if the family genetics we are all blessed with at birth, states that you have a 75:1 chance of getting breast cancer. If this is you and you happen to be reading this, I seriously say: fuck the legal age and go and get your breast mammogram or go and see a doctor. The 65 dollars you will spend to see them can and will potentially save your life
Since that day of discovering what breast cancer is, the risk and possibility some women have compared to others, I have made a firm vow to myself that I am and will continue being a strong supporter in raising awareness for breast cancer. In fact, I am one of those crazy ladies you see walking around shops with a trolley and lets out a squeal of excitement when seeing the pink ribbons. I don’t stop at buying one but rather I buy two (threeish) because I believe that the money is being put to a good cause and I work on the basis that it could be me sitting in that doctor’s room, being told “I am sorry to say this Scarlett, but you have stage ….. breast cancer”.
This brings back memories of cleaning out my nurse’s pouch that had been filled with tea/coffee lists of my resident’s when I came across my first ribbon that I had brought. Even though it was creased slightly from the bangle my Nan had given me for my graduation night of year 12, I fondly stroked that little ribbon before putting it back in its place. As I believe that has brought me luck in some many circumstances and no doubt, will hopefully continue to do so.
And since I am open and honest about my age, which is 24 soon to be 25 in a couple of months, I admit that I check my breasts while in the shower for any lumps. I do the whole lifting my arms up over my head, placing them on my waist and standing there with them stretched out wide to see if there are any lumps, dimpling, changing of breast tissue and any leakage. You are probably sitting there and thinking ‘but you are 24?’ And for your information, not everyone is middle aged when they get told they may have to have a breast removed.
And for those who a delusional into thinking that only women can get breast cancer, I actually read that men can get it as well.
I hope Gentlemen that your opinion of breast cancer and that women are the only ones who can be diagnosed, has somewhat changed. I have to admit that when it comes to pretending to be a RN, I pick the patients that not only put me out of the comfort zone some of us students like to live in. But also because they present with barriers such as language and mental that I find stimulating, in addition to having a history that exceeds past the URN number listed on their medical identity bracelet.
I came across this information when I was browsing through the Cancer Council website here in Australia when I happened to stumble across a guy named Kevin. I soon discovered that Kevin had been diagnosed with breast cancer after finding two little, hard lumps under his left nipple while showering. After reading his story and becoming intrigued, breast cancer in men compared to women is relatively uncommon. At the same time, I learnt that men are under the belief that it is only women who can get breast cancer and that men are immune to it.
This in return leads me back to my original reason for why I posted this blog post to begin with, containing the statement of the ‘perfect body image’. Whether we sit there and openly discuss which body part happens to be our favourite, we all think breasts are best. If not, our breasts are normally within the top six of our favourite things we like about our body.
In my case, I happen to think my breasts are one of the most stunning things about my body after my face of course and legs. And like I have stated previously, I would be upset if I was told that a doctor had to surgically remove both of my breasts as I am fond of them. But if I could have what is listed as ‘cosmetic surgery’ to have my breasts back again, I would consider joining the bandwagon even if they would be made out of silicon. On the positive side, I would hopefully never have to worry about my bra size changing on a daily basis and I might actually be able to wear the same cup.
Ladies and Gentlemen who are in the medical fields and for those who aren’t, if you know someone who has been recently diagnosed with breast or any cancer, fighting for their life or about to make the toughest decision in their lives; be a human being and hold out your hand. There are more times in a day where we need physical, mental, emotional and spiritual support from those around us because even though we may appear to be head strong and willing to go to battle; inside we are freaking the fuck out. When all we want to do is hide in our bed while wishing that this had never happened to us and why had it happened?
It is like the saying: an eye for an eye.
With that, if you live in Australia and see a box that has cute little pink ribbons in it, buy something and proudly display the fact that you are helping and supporting someone with breast cancer. Remember that you may not be walking a mile in their shoes but you could experience those pair of shoes one day. And you would want all the help and support you could possibly want and need. Because I know that I would appreciate knowing that someone could be helping with supporting breast cancer awareness month and also the possible hard decisions that I would have to make.
Just to survive.
With that, check your breasts whenever you are in the shower or waiting at the set of lights to change colour. And like I have previously said, if you do not know how to check your breasts properly for lumps and bumps and get your husband/boyfriend/lover to have a go or see a doctor. You may find it weird to ask them to check your breasts but watch what they do and ask them to show you so you can do it within your own home. And for those women who are having to make that decision towards removing a breast, you are still fabulous, incredibly strong, you deserve a pat on the back and you are still beautiful.
To everyone else, Breast Is Best.
Finally, Aunty A and Lois: Ladies, you have a date with a machine so it is time to get your girls out. Afterwards, we can celebrate with a few G’N’T’s and a scotch and dry.
Until next time,