I believe: in your breasts, and in mine

Of all the mantles October carries, breast cancer awareness is the most publicly recognized. You didn't need me to remind you about this one. Surely by now you've bought a pink water filtration pitcher, and a pink toaster oven, and pink-lidded yogurt. You've gotten a pink hair extension at the mall and went running in new pink athletic shoes and a bright pink sports bra. You bought pink. You supported the cause, right?

Didn't you?

Did you? Did your money help at all? And what have you done beyond that?

Have you promised to take care of yourself? (I have.) Have you signed up to participate in research that will help others? (I have, and I'm waiting for a study that needs my demographic.)

We all know breast cancer sufferers and survivors, and we all know of someone who has succumbed. Right now I'm following the breast cancer stories of the wife of a colleague at work, and WhyMommy, a brilliant woman and fellow DCMoms (the soon-to-be succession of DC Metro Moms) writer. And my great-grandfather had breast cancer. As does a male war veteran friend of my parents. It's not just a women's issue.

It is predominantly a women's disease, though. Right now, statistics in the United States say that 1 in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer. Do this exercise, please: imagine in your mind a circle of eight women you love.

Whom would you have suffer?

What will you do about it?