Welcome to the Jungle

I've told this story before but after talking to a good friend tonight, suddenly, it seemed to take on new meaning... 

The year was 1992. I was 21 years old and was loving life. Some friends of mine invited me to see Guns N' Roses/Metallica/Faith No More at Three Rivers Stadium in Pittsburgh. I had never been to a stadium show but since this was during my Metallica "phase", I jumped at the offer.

The concert was sold out, which meant that there were 55,000 strong ready to rock and roll. Soon, we reached our seats, which were in the second row.  One of my biggest fears was to get trampled if the stage were to get rushed.  My friends, Todd, Mark and John, took me under their wings and acted almost like personal body guards. "Don't worry... if anything happens, we'll just throw you up on stage", Mark had told me. Swell. 

This was a dry show, so we were sober as can be (this will be important to note later). We rocked our hearts out during Faith No More and even through torrential rain during Metallica.

After I had gotten to the point where I felt like I had doubled my body weight just from being soaked to the bone, Todd and I went inside to get a quick bite and buy a concert tshirt - simply to dry off. My bra was soaked and gross, so Todd graciously offered to let me put it in his pocket after I had wrung it out. Such a gentleman. 

We made our way back down to our seats and sang and headbanged our way through the end of Metallica's set. The set change between Metallica and Guns was long; it was a good hour. By then, the clouds had broken and the sun was starting to shine. 

As with many shows, there are usually large screens around the stage. This was no exception, and we were treated to three jumbotrons. Cameramen were scanning the crowd and of course, shenanigans ensued. One girl after another flashed her boobs for the crowd. Interestingly, nearly all were blonde, Barbie-types. SO not me. 

I happened to be in a sea of guys. I told my friends that I'd totally flash the crowd - and would do it better. Some of the guys nearby overheard. My friends and strangers were frantically trying to get the attention if the nearest cameraman. 

They got his attention. "We've got one right here! She'll do it!!" It was showtime. I am proud to say that I got the longest "airtime" out of all the flashers. No one was harmed in the flashing of my boobs. Everyone around me was having a blast. The crowd went wild. 

Before anyone gets their panties in a bunch, understand that I actually felt empowered. I didn't feel cheapened or demeaned. No one twisted my arm. I remember thinking that I was young, had nice perky boobs and this was a once in a lifetime opportunity to shake what the good lord gave me in front of a stadium full of rockers. I remember thinking "I'm doing this now while I can because someday, I WON'T BE ABLE TO." Oh, how true those words were. 

I've made no secret about the fact that I loved my rack. That was the one and only grand flashing gesture I had ever made. Sure, friends had gotten flashed at some point or another but it's not like that was a common occurrence and certainly not for any type of crowd.  

Right now, those boobs are gone. What I have now are post-surgery, nippleless, misshapen mounds on my chest. They're not sexy. They have zero sensation. Between radiation and the expander, I have a big divot in my chest. Hopefully, fat grafting will help even things out. 

I'm not proposing that people go out and flash the neighbors or Maroon 5 or whatever, in case cancer takes their boobs away but what I AM saying is that it's okay to live a little. This isn't so much about the boobs; however, there's obvious irony. You're allowed to do wild and crazy things once in a while. If it makes you happy and no one is getting hurt - why the hell not, right? No regrets!

I realize that by posting this story on my blog, my daughters will hear it for the first time. (Hell, so will a bevy of others that I never planned on sharing it with!) This was half a lifetime ago for me. I was a legal adult. Do I want them to do the same thing? Not necessarily... Do I begrudge them letting a little wildness show through? The mom in me says, "OY! Just don't tell me and be careful!" The cancer survivor in me says, "Go for it. Let your freak flag fly."

"And be careful."

Rock on, my friends.