Tuesday, July 12, 2011


At the CIBC Breast Centre Waiting Room, everyone’s staring at something called The View. It looks so woman-y. But, if I do have cancer, I can see it’ll be my new best friend. Nobody here wants to look at the wall, with its wilting poster about Pap smears, or one another, in cancer-pink gowns that could flatter only a dark auburn-haired woman with a light, romantic freckle dusting, and is she here? No. It’s a Canadian imperialist cosmetic company ploy to induct us all into Look Good, Feel Better programs. The time I tried mascara, I gave myself a moustache.

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