Here’s the Thing between Angie and Me

It is true that Angelina Jolie and I have never met. And we shall never meet,

but every time I see her lauded for being beautiful, smart, and sweet

I fume.  I mutter.  I shake my head vehemently.

Right now she speaks about the virus.  I am shuddering quite frequently.

Yes, it is uncalled for.  It proves I am self serving.

But listen while I tell you why I find her so unnerving.

Early twenty-thirteen brought my  breast cancer diagnosis.

I studied all my options, and developed a slight neurosis

as I fretted about deciding which way to chose…

Full mastectomy or lumpectomy? which would  make me lose

the greatest sense of confidence heading into the future?

Which would leave me stronger, as they completed each suture?

I chose the complete bilateral.  It seemed the surer choice.

My doctor’s and my friends’ concern were given full, deliberate voice.

And so it was done, and all is well. Life continues without a stall,

Except for moments when some famous chick lays claim to know it all.

See, unbeknownst to me, I mean, I was focused on healing rest,

Angelina famously announced she too had cut off each breast.

She made the announcement, she said in a manner quite bold and brave,

to inspire other women and men to stand up, themselves to save.

At first I thought, that’s good.  She’ll inspire people to be healthy.

She would share her story around the world with the poor and the very wealthy.

She shared the genes that killed her mother, and she wanted people to know,

that they can have preventative surgery before any cancer will show.

I have no doubt her announcement made people stop and think.

It had to, I am very sure.  I even raised a drink

to her good health and our sisterhood – survivors, dressed in pink.

After I recovered, though, I began to stew.

I ran into friends not recently seen.  Not one of them knew

about my diagnosis, or my  almost certain cure.

Most were surprised, and very kind, I am very sure.

But then first one, and then another asked had Angie’s choice influenced mine?

What?  Like I’d cut my body up to mimic her at any time?

Like I would even consider taking such a drastic step

based on the words of a rich, fear filled darling and her marketing rep.

How stupid did they think me, that I was such a sheep

That I would follow Angelina Jolie ’bout anything so deep.

I actually had cancer, and I made my very personal choice,

with input from my daughter with her steady, thoughtful voice.

So I grew to dislike Angie with her life out on full view

She does not speak for me, that’s sure.  Me thinks she speaks for few.

We all have a story, we all know things.

We all must stumble on ahead without input from kings,

or, as in this case, a highly lauded queen,

who made a choice like we all must make when life is cruel and mean.

I know…it’s a sad state of affairs when I fashion an argument with a face on the telly…

but…what the hell

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