I have had plenty of scary moments in my life.  I left my family to attend law school in Scotland when I was 17 years old. I told a boss “no” when his request violated my moral integrity…and then had to pay the consequences of my decision.  I stood vigil and watched as my father took his last breath – knowing it would make me an orphan.  I listened to the sound of mortars and watched tracer fire streaking overhead as rebels fought government forces in the African country we were visiting.  I prayed and held onto my infant daughter when our airplane couldn’t get its landing gear down in time to land.  I tried to wrap my mind around what the doctor was telling me when he said that our one-year old had a potentially life-threatening condition.  Yes, I have had many scary moments.

Yesterday provided another. Yesterday, I had my first mammogram.

Now, you might think that going to get my boobs squished shouldn’t even crack the above list. But for me, it was loaded with emotional overtones.

My mother died of ovarian cancer when I was 18 and her sister, my maternal aunt, is a two-time breast cancer survivor. In case you are unaware, geneticists link those two cancers together and say they can run in families. After much agonizing, I decided not had the testing done to see if the genetic marker is present in my family. For me, I simply do not want to live with a label stamped on my forehead.

But just because I have made this choice does not mean that I choose inaction. There are plenty of positive things I can do which will be much more personally productive than taking a test. For example, I limit the amount of sugar that I put into my body. I also watch the types of protein that I eat. I pay close attention to my body and listen to what it is telling me. Of course, some days I am better than others in making good choices.

But as I make these choices, I stand up to my fear. I choose to see it for what it is and refuse to allow it to control me. I think that, when it came to having a mammogram, I was deeply afraid of a number of things, but one fear that got me sweating (and you can’t wear deodorant to the exam) was the pain.

I had been told that mammograms were extremely painful. That was not my experience. I had a technician who was very attuned to making me feel as comfortable as possible. Contrary to what I had envisioned, there was not a plate that came slamming down on my breast. The technician slowly moved the plates into place and then fine-tuned the compression with a hand control. While I can definitively say it was not the most comfortable situation I have found myself in, it was not entirely unpleasant either.

At one point in the exam, I mentioned this to the tech. “This isn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be!” She then told me that so many women who come in for their first mammogram are terrified. Terrified of a painful experience. Terrified of what the doctor might find. Terrified of being naked. Terrified to have their breasts touched by a complete stranger.

In that moment, it occurred to me that when we enter the mammography room, we are coming face to face with our views on our breasts. If we are not truly comfortable in our skin, this is one place where it is going to come out in full force.

At best, most of us have an ambiguous relationship with our breasts. They are too small or too saggy or have stretch marks on them. Sure, they are functional when the babies come along. And the boys like them too. But many of us stuff them in poorly sized bras, manhandle them once a month to look for lumps and tolerate the attention that they receive from everyone else who is trying to get a piece of the action. Placing them into a machine – even if it is the responsible thing to do – seems like part of the continuum of function rather than embracing the feminine.

Modern-day culture has done little to encourage the feminine aspects of our breasts. Dr. Christiane Northrup humorously says that we are taught to believe that they are just pre-cancerous lumps that hang from our chest. The admonitions that we receive from the fashion industry are that we need to change in order to be “good enough”. The porn industry has made things even worse: if you aren’t a DD, then you can forget having a man look at you longingly. And coming from our North American puritanical roots there is a strong undercurrent that says whatever the size, they should be covered and hidden from view – even strapped down like their very existence is an embarrassment.

These are all distortions of how we should view our breasts. They are a beautiful part of our femininity. Regardless of their size or shape, they set us apart from men and children. For centuries, they have been worshiped in art. They are adored in the Bible. (Yes, you heard me correctly, the Bible.) I think it is time for us to see them from this perspective.

When was the last time you looked at your naked self in the mirror and said, “I love you”? Does that sound absurd? Think of it this way: how we view ourselves comes from our belief system. If we believe that we are beautiful and wonderful just as we are, then we will be able to fully embrace our femininity. And that begins with the messages that we send ourselves.

A very interesting thing begins to happen when we learn to love our breasts (and our bodies by extension). The fear dissipates. Instead of looking for something inadequate or wrong, we are enjoying the creation reflected in the mirror. We shift from a critical eye to a loving eye.

And honestly, if “love your neighbor as yourself” is ever going to mean anything, then don’t we have to actually love ourselves??  All of ourselves?

A few days ago my 5-year-old daughter got her pictures taken for her ballet performance.  We dressed her and her friends up in adorable ladybug costumes, increased the size of the hole in the ozone layer with the amount of product we put in their hair, and put a ridiculous amount of makeup on them.  When we finished all this, my daughter looked at herself in the mirror.  After starting at herself for a minute, she threw her arms up, twirled around and shouted, “I’m beautiful, I’M BEAUTIFUL!!“

When was the last time you felt that way about yourself?

That’s too long.  It’s time you remembered what my daughter just learned – sometimes you just need to dance and shout to everyone how beautiful you feel about yourself.  Why don’t you give it a try?

Yes, I mean right now.  And then go schedule your mammogram – it’s a great way to show your boobs exactly how much you love them!