So today is the last day of October, and I’m stoked.
Sure, I love Halloween. And our first wedding anniversary is tomorrow, so that’s pretty cool (for those who don’t know, because I’ve gotten some questions about this lately, Kazander and I have been together for 5 years, our kid is 4 years old, but we only got married last year).
And tomorrow, Sounder will meet me at the hotel, and I’ll get to do some pretty fucking awesome things to him and Kazander, so you can expect a nice, steamy post about that.
But those events are not the reasons why I look forward to the end of October every year.
Wanna know why I look forward to the end of October every year?
Yep, because every October, everyfuckingthing turns pink, and for some reason, everyone thinks that’s so goddamn awesome.
If you don’t live in the US, you don’t know about Pinktober. October is national Breast Cancer Awareness Month. And for some reason, everyone in this country has decided that we need to go to laughably ridiculous extremes to “raise awareness” or some shit.
But really, it’s just because people who are too lazy to actually go out and make a difference want to feel like they’re contributing to society.
I mean, come on. You think that pink wristband you paid $2 for is helping anyone but yourself?
“Oh, they donate ten cents for every wristband sold. I’m making a difference.”
Here’s a thought. How about you just donate the two fucking dollars?
And No-Bra Day? Oh God, No-Bra Day is the exact reason why all the other countries hate us and think we’re stupid. That’s it, right there, in a nutshell.
Are you confused right now? Wondering why I’m so hostile about Pinktober? Alright, let me explain.
Imagine that you’re actually suffering from breast cancer. Imagine that you’ve lost one or both of your breasts. Imagine dealing with not just the physical trauma (that’s not an easy surgery, y’all), but the mental and emotional trauma. You don’t feel like a woman anymore. You don’t feel “pretty” anymore. Even if you can afford the implants, there are vicious scars and no nipples. You feel like you’ll never be pretty again.
You’re fucking devastated.
Now, imagine a shitload of perky girls thinking it’s a “good idea” to flaunt their tits all over social media, shoving them in your face and down your throat, reminding you over and over and over and over again what you lost, and the terrifying, fucking deadly disease tearing your body apart.
And those stupid bitches are actually dumb enough to think that they’re doing a “good thing.” That they’re “raising awareness.”
We don’t need to “raise awareness” for breast cancer. We’re all aware of it. For 31 days every year, it is literally everywhere.
For those who live in other countries, I’m not exaggerating. It is everyfuckingwhere. Watch an NFL game in the month of October. Everything on TV has pink all over it. Everything at the grocery store has pink all over it. Try finding a bottle of water, a soup can, or a jar of peanut butter that isn’t covered in cute little pink ribbons.
We’re aware, m’kay? We’re aware of the disease. So showing off your tits to a woman who has lost hers, to a woman who has suffered, both physically and mentally, isn’t “helping.” That’s pretty much the opposite of “helping.”
You’re not being “supportive.” You’re being an insensitive bitch who wants to feel important without having to actually do anything. And you’re making people actually dealing with cancer feel like shit.
You go, girl.
Pinktober has turned a deadly disease into a joke. There’s nothing “cute” about cancer. And all that pink shit you’re buying? Read some labels. Most of those companies don’t donate a fucking dime to cancer research. But in October, we’re almost as bad with buying pink shit as we are whenever a new Elmo toy comes out at Christmas.
Seriously. I’m waiting to read about a brawl at Target over the last pink 2-liter Diet Coke. And which cancer patient benefits from that? Can you point her (or him) out? Which cancer patient benefits from the pink jar of peanut butter you bought?
Not only that, but we go to such laughable extremes for breast cancer ever year, but every other type of cancer is literally ignored. You know how I mentioned the NFL? How every part of every uniform is covered in pink? For charity, and to raise awareness for those suffering?
They fined one athlete for wearing an orange ribbon instead of a pink one on his uniform in October, for leukemia. They fined another athlete over $5,000 for wearing purple cleats to raise awareness for domestic violence.
Fuck Pinktober. And fuck yeah, I’m hostile.
I will never buy anything pink during the month of October. No one should. We’ve turned cancer into a joke, and we’re proud of ourselves for doing it. Even the kitschy little name is a blaring example of that. “Oh, Pinktober is so clever, such a catchy little name.”
Why is no one else pissed off about that?
You want to help people suffering from cancer? Donate money directly to the organizations, and do your research to figure out which ones help the most.
A mammogram costs about $100. Donate one to a woman over 40 who is uninsured. Donate money or time to families of cancer sufferers. Help their kids with their homework while Mom is in chemo. Do you have long hair? Shave it the fuck off and donate it, and spend the next few months experiencing one hundredth of a percent of what a cancer sufferer goes through.
Volunteer at a hospital, just talking and spending time with patients. You don’t have to be wealthy to help. But you have to get up off your ass and do something. And buying little pink ribbon bumper stickers doesn’t count.
So yeah, I hate October, and I will continue to hate October until the pink bullshit stops.