Pity

I could watch the movie Friends with Benefits over and over again (and sometimes I do). I have never had a thing for Justin Timberlake, but his chemistry with Mila Kunis is hot! There’s humor, there’s sex, there’s life; it’s got it all.
JT’s father has Alzheimer’s in the film. And at one point he and Mila talk about that look of pity that he gets when telling people about his dad. He says he didn’t tell her about his father’s illness because he didn’t want to see her look at him with pity. I get it.
When talking to people lately, my quandary is always, do I tell this person about my surgery or do I spare myself the look they’ll give me? Do I sacrifice my own privacy so that they are better informed? The answer seems to lie in the situation I’m in. I find myself saying “my surgery” rather than “double mastectomy” to people who I don’t know as well. I’m kind of hoping they think it’s a torn ACL (which would make me seem athletic) or even another nose job. If someone inquires further I will tell them, but I try to keep it light.
Double mastectomy from a 30 year old with a baby on her hip seems to produce more pitiful stares than belly laughs. Maybe instead I should say something like, “my tits are falling off” a la Madeline Kahn in History of the World Part 1. If only more people loved Mel Brooks and knew that scene. This line would have the desired effect – laughter, not lament.

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