As if I needed more reminders...

Lord save us, today is the beginning of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

Yes, a full 31 days of pink-marketing assault, from constant stories in the news, to survivor testimonials, to walks and runs and rallies. Everything you buy this month will either be pink, wrapped in pink or sport pink ribbon logos. Sigh.

I am of two minds about this. Yes, it is good for women to be aware of breast cancer, and it is good to remind them to go get screened. Yes, it is good for corporations to donate and organizations to raise money for research and advocacy foundations.

But there is something unseemly about the full court press to market everything from hammers to Fig Newtons to batteries to bath towels to make consumers buy, buy, buy, thinking they are "fighting breast cancer" with every purchase. It smacks of exploitation.

As one of the exploited, I cringe during October. As I've been working through my mental fog of the last year, I actually have parts of days where I don't think about the pain, the mutilation, the fear and horror of what breast cancer did to me physically and mentally. Then I go grocery shopping, and get to re-live it in every blessed aisle. Thank you. Thank you so very much.

Why would I, a breast cancer "survivor," want to fill my house with pink merchandise, so that I have constant reminders of what I've been through? Does it make me feel better to buy pink Oreos or pink foot powder, knowing that some corporate giant is donating ten cents to the Komen Foundation? No, it does not.

My general feeling is that charity, whether practiced by individuals or corporations, should be done with a pure heart and a closed mouth. It doesn't count as a virtue if you are compelled to tout your "generosity." Since businesses cannot take a tax deduction for their charitable contributions, they use this month and my disease to promote their products, boost sales, and justify their giving. It disturbs me, morally.

On the other hand, it's a winning formula for the foundations. They too market breast cancer aggressively to the corporate entities, using the precise argument that promoting pink will indeed boost their sales, providing a rationalization for the charitable gift. The net result has been an explosion of funding for organizations to promote their agendas, and yes, perhaps save women's lives in the long run.

In the meantime, I just want to bury my head in my pillow during October. In November, all that pink merchandise gets shuffled to the Dollar Stores for fire-sale prices, which for some reason makes me even sadder. Racks and racks of unwanted pink trinkets feels like the world has rejected my affliction, my pain. And then I realize, I'm part of the problem. By boycotting Breast Cancer Awareness October, the inevitable result is Dollar Store November.

Pink is the color of my very crappiest year ever. Pink is the color of remembrance of things best forgotten, or at least shoved into the deepest, darkest recesses of my mental closet. There is no joy in pink.