A Southern Fairytale » blogging for boobs

Lauren’s Story

Rachel — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 10:00:08 +0000

I remember the pamphlet my parents gave me when I was six and my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was illustrated with colorful pictures of happy people and sad people, of healthy people and sick people, of normal cells and cancerous cells. The drawings of the cells were what fascinated me. There were plump, round red cells, floating free; anthropomorphized white blood cells, heroic and determined; and wrinkled, discolored cells, lumped together angrily.

I could understand this. My mom had to have surgery to have the bad, raisiny cells removed, and chemo to make sure they were really gone. Sure, easy.

It wasn’t easy. I had to go with her to lots of doctors appointments, sit in waiting rooms that all had the same boring toys and no snacks except gross things in vending machines, talk to nurses who clearly didn’t understand how grown up I was. Her new breast looked wrong, unbalanced, unnatural. She got sick and couldn’t play the way she had before. She lost all of her pretty light-brown hair and didn’t like wearing wigs, so she’d wear home-knit wool caps that I thought looked embarrassingly ridiculous. But slowly, she got better.

Until, suddenly, it seemed, she was worse. The doctors found more bad cancer cells, this time not just in her breast. They hadn’t gotten all of them out, and the cancer cells had moved into her bones, into her brain, into her lungs. It didn’t seem possible — she needed her bones and brain and lungs, the doctors couldn’t just cut them out the way they had cut out her breast. She had to have more chemo — so much that sometimes she had to stay in hospitals overnight, sometimes for more than one night. She recorded a cassette tape of the lullabies she sang to me so that she could always sing to me at bedtime. I brought pictures I had drawn in school when we visited her. I missed her.

But I missed her more when she came home.

She forgot things, like how to unlock the front door from the inside when the deadbolt was too heavy for me to throw with my latchkey. Like how to cook and bake — she had to throw away food that she burned, and I had to make my own breakfasts (cold cereal instead of oatmeal or cheese tortilla rollups) and lunches (sandwiches instead of her cold, creamy cucumber soup). Grandma Gloria, my father’s mother, came to stay with us to help watch me while my father worked long hours in the hotel restaurant he managed. Grandma Lou and Papa John came to visit, and Aunt Sandy and Aunt Cathy brought their families, my uncles and little cousins. Once, when one of them hugged my mom goodnight too tightly, she screamed and then they both cried.

The last time that Mom came home from the hospital, they sent a hospital bed with her so that she could be more comfortable. Grandma Gloria insisted that we put it in the living room, where it was bright with sunlight and motion. I wasn’t sure how much of it she appreciated — she slept most of the time, and didn’t seem very aware even when she was awake. I was happy that she was home, though — they always sent her home when she was doing better, so she must’ve been getting better.

She died on the night that I was sleeping over at my friend Anna’s house. Anna’s mother, Didi, came home from a date with her boyfriend and woke us up to give me the news. I cried, and Anna’s mother held me, and handed me tissues, and took her daughter and me downstairs for bowls of ice cream. She let us have chocolate syrup and whipped cream and sprinkles. When Dad picked me up the next morning, he told me he wished Didi hadn’t given me the news, that he’d wanted to tell me himself. He asked me if I wanted to go home and I started crying again, thinking of the hospital bed in our living room, of all the other things that had happened there: Mom sketching me while I read an issue of Highlights on the couch; hanging Christmas ornaments on our little tree, a fire and a Nat King Cole record each warming the room; posing for pictures before she took me trick-or-treating, me in the big, fake-fur Dalmatian costume she’d sewn and her in the little rubber monkey nose she’d bought at my insistence that she dress up too.

I stayed with one of her friends for a week, and Dad brought me everything I needed from our house so I wouldn’t have to go back there to find her absent.

I’m 27 years old now, just 10 years younger than my mother was when she was diagnosed with breast cancer, and my gynecologist has recommended that I start having MRI breast screenings. She’s also helping me look into having the genetic screening for BRCA; these days, as she explained hilariously and terrifyingly bluntly during my last pap smear appointment, we have choices and things can be done. I look at the life I have built for myself, the people who love me and all of the things I still haven’t done yet, and I am determined to do whatever is best, whatever is necessary to preserve it. My mother taught me how to love, and I love too much to go quietly.

Lauren, thank you so much for sharing your story with us.

Lauren can be found at Grammar Monkey

. Share It If You Like It:

Cyndy’s Family’s Breast Cancer Story

Rachel — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 12:32:11 +0000

When I was about 10 years old, my paternal grandmother became very ill. Unsure what was wrong, the doctors performed an exploratory surgery. They discovered cancer. In fact, she was riddled with cancer. The official diagnosis was liver cancer, but they didn’t know where it had originated. She was too sick to go through any procedures to try to determine it’s origin. She went home and suffered a long, slow, cruel and painful death.

Years later, her daughter was diagnosed with breast cancer. Fortunately, my aunt’s cancer was caught early and she was treated successfully. But we now believe that my Grandmother’s cancer likely started in her breasts.

It’s strange how some people can go through treatment successfully and end up cancer-free, but others can’t. I am sure there are reasons for that, but I don’t know what they are. You would think that age would have something to do with it, but that’s not always the case. My aunt was in her sixties when she was diagnosed & successfully treated. However, a friend of mine that I’ve known since Kindergarten was not so fortunate. She was only in her mid-thirties when her breast cancer was found. She began treatment and fought for nineteen months. When I reconnected with her on Facebook and learned of her cancer, she was very upbeat about her treatments being successful. On her profile, it said “I can’t wait to say that I’m cancer free. My family deserves that!” She was married with three young children. But her wish did not come true; she lost that nineteen month battle just last month.

I want to live in a world where this doesn’t happen. Where cancer doesn’t steal Mommies from babies. Daughters from mothers. Wives, sisters, aunts, friends…and fathers and sons. Let’s not forget that men can also get breast cancer, as my friend LouCeeL reminded me. He also lost a friend – a male friend – to breast cancer. To quote him: “A friend of mine died of Breast Cancer. A man. Most people lose sight of the fact that men get breast cancer, too. And when we do, it’s more often fatal because we find it later than women usually do. Please. Man or woman. Do self exams. If you’re a man, ask your wife, girlfriend, mother or doctor how to do them and do them properly. But DO THEM.”

We need to find a cure. But until we do, take care of yourself and do your self exams. Early detection is so important. Give yourself a chance to fight.

YOUR family deserves that.

Thank You For Sharing This, Cyndy.

You Can find Cyndy blogging at Putting The Fun in DysFUNctional

. Share It If You Like It:

Survivor: Her Best Title

Rachel — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 12:25:45 +0000

It happened before I was born.

The breast cancer diagnosis, that is. She was in her late 40s, taking a shower and found a lump in her breast. This was a time when breast cancer survival was far lower than it is today. A mastectomy was a radical procedure, but her doctor’s convinced her it was her only option.

My sweet Grammy, husband-less at the time, was willing if it meant she would have more time in this world. And more time is exactly what she has had. Today she is 97, going on 98. The breast cancer took her breast, but not her life, not her spirit.

She has always been a very private person – so we don’t often talk about that time in her life. But I know she was scared. I know she was embarrassed. I also know she triumphed. This barely 5 foot, peanut of a woman kicked cancer in the rear and has lived cancer-free for close to fifty years. She has watched her only son become a dad and then a grandfather.

She has lived through World Wars, the invention of the car, the television and the Internet. She has lived to be a Great-Grandmother.

Strong. Remarkable. Proud. Inspiring. All words I can use to describe the woman who makes the best Rice Crispy treats in the universe.

But probably her best title: Survivor. Last year, I was thrilled to contribute to The Little Pink Prayer Book, Coping Healing, Surviving, Thriving in her honor.

Danielle blogs at Extraordinary Mommy

Please Donate to The Susan G Komen Foundation in Celebration of Danielle’s Grammy and others like her

. Share It If You Like It:

The Woman I Never Met

Rachel — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 09:31:28 +0000

When Rachel said that she was dedicating the month of October to raising awareness for Breast Cancer on her blog, I knew without a doubt I wanted to be involved. Breast cancer touches all of us in some way.

I know a woman who has been in remission for over five years.

I knew a woman who lost her fight with breast cancer last year.

The most profound loss I’ve felt, was the loss of a woman I never even met. My college roommate M lost her mother to breast cancer shortly before we met. I don’t think there was a time M can remember when her mother wasn’t fighting breast cancer. She fought it for many years but in the end the cancer took over.

When M and I became roommates (through other friends) we didn’t know each other. We would stay up late into the night talking about life and death. She had recently lost her mother and I had recently lost my beloved grandmother. We bonded over our grief and tears. She had lived with the looming chance that her mother wouldn’t stay in remission and that possibly she would lose her. I was blindsided by the suddenness of my loss. She gave me a different perspective on living and coping and carrying on. I would often wonder what I would do if I couldn’t call my mom and cry or ask for advice.

M was living what I couldn’t fathom.

As we talked, I learned who her mother was and how she raised her children. I learned what was important to her, what she valued and what go her through some of her darkest and most difficult days. I learned of her love for fruit trees. Even though we had never met, in many ways I feel I have come to know M’s mother.

Watching her mother struggle and fight cancer has effected M in more profound ways than I can ever imagine. She admitted she was afraid to have kids. She feared something would happen to her and she would leave them motherless, as she had been left. She said it was an inexplicable pain she wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Many years have passed since we were college roommates but M is still one of my closest friends. She is now mom to two adorable children. We recently talked about honoring, remembering and teaching our kids about the loved ones we’ve lost. She said sometimes it was too much and too hard to talk about her mom. She wants her kids to know who their grandmother was, why she’s missed and how important she is. M perseveres and I know her children will come to know the woman who has touched all of our lives.

written by Jill R

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No mother, no woman will ever be forgotten.

No daughter, should lose a mother to this insidious disease.

No woman should lose a friend.

No mother should lose her daughter.

No one should die from this disease.

Please help us to find the cure. Donate today.

. Share It If You Like It:

Spreading the Knowledge: Tara’s Story

Rachel — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 11:38:33 +0000

By my fourth walk through, I felt like I had what I needed. I took my basket to the cashier and began taking out each item, obviously keeping to a central color scheme.

“You’re in a pink mood today,” the cashier said, taking over the task of emptying my basket.

I explained why I had so much pink, and what I was planning to do. The beads, wire and findings were for a bracelet I was making for Rachel from A Southern Fairytale , and her Blogging For Boobs Breast Cancer giveaways.

As she scanned each string of beads, the cashier told me she needed to have her first mammogram. A woman about my own age, she said an appointment last year had to be canceled when her father went into the hospital with heart problems.

I encouraged her to get the test done. Just that morning I said, my own doctor had called to remind me it was time for my annual mammogram.

We chatted some more. She shared that she had lost her grandmother, an uncle and a close friend from church, all within a few days and all to cancer.

I told her that mammograms weren’t as bad as some people would tell her. She smiled, looked at me, then at her own ample tatas ‘You look like me, I’d believe you more over some of those others.’

I gave her the name of the clinic where I have my mammos done. She told me that the local hospital offered free testing for ‘financially disadvantaged’ patients. ‘Then there’s no reason to not get the test,’ I tell her.

As I took my bag of beads, I thanked her and encouraged her again to not forget to have a mammogram. Walking out of the store I wondered how only a few years ago, two women, two respectable women, talking about *breasts* in public would have been verboten. That telling a complete stranger she needed to have a mammogram would have been completely unheard of.

When my mother was my age, even the word *cancer* wasn’t spoken in public. It was a hidden disease.

I am amazed by not only how far we’ve come in the treatment of cancer, but also in how we respond to it. We talk about it, we share stories, we support and comfort each other. We encourage and push when it’s needed. It no longer has to be a solitary disease.

Pink cloisonné and silver filigree beads, pink cat’s eyes, and rose wire and clasp.

Thank You, Tara. For sharing the knowledge, encouraging someone else and offering this beautiful handmade bracelet.

You can find Tara at If Mom Says OK

The giveaway for this bracelet will be open from Thursday, October 22, 2009 to Friday, October 23, 2009 at 11:59 CST

Entry One (mandatory): Leave a comment telling what you’re doing to pass on the knowledge, share breast cancer tips or anything else you’re doing to help the fight for the cure

Bonus Entry: Tweet this and leave the tweet url in a comment

Bonus Entry: Donate to Susan G Komen via

. Share It If You Like It:

But, I’m Only 26, Katie’s Story

Rachel — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 13:07:45 +0000

I’m only 26.

I’ve always felt foolish doing monthly exams of my boobs (sorry, I can’t call these breasts. That makes them sound far more substantial than they are). When I first really got into the habit, I was 23, and statistics and family history were on my side. I had no reason to suspect that anything would be wrong with my boobs. But, I did the exam anyway.

And one month, I found a small lump.

I ignored it, like all rational people would. I ignored it until my boob started leaking fluid. Not milk (trust me, these boobs have never sustained anyone), just liquid. Sometimes just a little, sometimes a lot. In my head I knew that it wasn’t okay, but I was paralyzed by fear.

It wasn’t until several months later when my then fiancé, now husband learned about the lump that I made a doctor’s appointment. And even then, it wasn’t so much a voluntary action.

My gynecologist sent me for bilateral ultrasounds (mammograms aren’t useful on people my age) and sent me to a breast specialist. The ultrasounds were negative, and we breathed a HUGE sigh of relief. My itty bitty titties were fine.

But they weren’t.

Because the breast specialist did her own ultrasounds and immediately found the problem. The lump. She didn’t know what it was, but it didn’t look like a traditional benign cyst and she said she couldn’t leave it alone in good conscience.

So we did a sterotactic biopsy, which revealed nothing of consequence (fibrocystic changes), and we relaxed a little and moved onto a 3, 6 and 12 month ultrasound follow up schedule. The 3 and 6 month appointments were gorgeously uneventful, the scar tissue wasn’t even bad, and everything looked great. We breathed another sigh of relief.

The 12 month ultrasound did not look great.

That ultrasound showed that the lump returned, and by returned, I mean returned and built a freaking colony. It was twice as big as it had been before the biopsy, and worse, it was growing very quickly- two things that you never want when you’re looking at (the inside of) boobs.

A needle biopsy would not do this time. And so this time we did a quadrantectomy.

At age 24 I had a quarter of my right breast removed.

And then I laid at home on the couch for a week, recovering and anxiously awaiting the pathology report. Because even though my doctor had the results of the biopsy on Friday, they don’t give results over the phone and my appointment wasn’t until Tuesday.

I know it’s cliché to tell you that that week was the longest of my life, but it was. When Tuesday finally came I was beside myself with worry.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the doctor came in and read the pathology report. No cancer. We (foolishly) breathed another infamous sigh of relief.

But, just after the disclosure that I didn’t have cancer came news I wasn’t prepared for. What I did have was something called atypical ductal hyperplasia. Hyperplasias are cells that are growing abnormally quickly (most cancer cells are this) and not only were my cells growing too quickly, but they were growing abnormally as well.

What is scarier is that on that day in 2008 when I found out I didn’t have cancer, I also found out that my lifetime risk of breast cancer went from totally baseline (no family history or risk factors), to 4-6 times the risk of the average woman.

On that day, we got a prescription for bilateral ultrasounds every six months “until we find something.” Not until I turn an age, but until we find cancer.

Because my breast surgeon is confident that we will someday. She believes that based on my age and how quickly my breasts screwed themselves up (so, perhaps I’m paraphrasing a bit there) that there will be cancer. That my boobs, these insignificant A-cup mole hills, will one day be malignant.

Thinking about this scares the crap out of me. But, I am not alone and I am not weak.

I can’t stop cancer, I don’t have that power. I can’t change my chances. I can’t impact what happens.

But because I was vigilant, because I performed that totally inconvenient 30 second long breast self-exam, I am prepared. I can catch it early. I can acknowledge my risk and know the signs to watch out for.

I’m only 26 and I am at high risk for breast cancer.

And I know I’m not alone.

Take those 30 sends and feel your breasts. Those 30 seconds might save your life. They might have saved mine.

Katie writes at OverflowingBrain

Honor Katie and Others like her by donating to the Fight For the Cure at Susan G Komen.org

. Share It If You Like It:

Bank of America: A Proud Partner

Rachel — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 09:01:23 +0000

I bank with Bank of America and have pretty much my entire adult life.

I have always been very pleased with their customer service and rates and blah blah blah..

Why should you care?

Because today, I clicked on the Susan G Komen page and saw this:

For each new Susan G. Komen for the Cure branded credit card account opened and used, Komen receives a minimum of $3, and a minimum of 20 cents for every $100 you make in purchases with the card. Komen also receives $1 for each annual renewal of the card
For each new checking account and/or debit card opened, Komen will receive $2 and an additional $1 on each annual anniversary of the account opening. Komen will also receive 10 cents for every $100 you
make in purchases with the Susan G. Komen for the Cure® branded debit card.

It honestly made me proud and you better believe that I clicked a link.

Want to find out more? Here’s the link.

image from the Susan G Komen partners page

Please Donate Today and Help us Find The Cure.

. Share It If You Like It:

Mammogram, Smashograms, The Boobie Smash

Rachel — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 09:05:26 +0000

Today, October 16th, 2009 is National Mammography Day to find a clinic near you go to nbcam.org

Smashogram, that’s what my mom always called mammograms. She’d pretty much convinced me they were some type of horrible medieval torture. Then this past spring I had my first one.

Here’s your TMI (too much information) warning, if you don’t want to hear it…run now. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.

One day I found that I had a questionable nipple discharge and called my Dr. I was honestly torn between wanting to be told, it was nothing to worry about but, also not wanting them to blow it off given my family history. They told me that I needed to come in and be seen. After seeing the Dr. she told me that while she was really feeling it would be nothing, that it was something that needed to be checked and a mammogram was scheduled. Then, I began to be nervous. I worried about the possibilities of what they could find AND about the test itself.

The morning of the mammogram I really thought I would throw up before I got there. So I get there and check in,they call my name and take me back to a locker room and give me a locker for my stuff and a lovely hospital robe. Once in my robe, I go to another waiting room with many other women wearing our beautiful hospital robe tops. From there, my name is called again. A super sweet nurse brought me back to the dreaded contraptions. It took probably about 20 minutes and I’m not even going to lie, it wasn’t fun. It didn’t feel GOOD. I would NOT choose to have one as a form of relaxation. But, it was not anything to be truly fearful of. I’d rather get a mammogram than go to the dentist ANYDAY.

Afterward, I was told to wait in the room as the radiologist is on location and reads them right away. After a little waiting the nurse came back and told me that while they didn’t see anything that they were worried about they wanted me to have an ultrasound. After a few more minutes of waiting I was taken in for an ultrasound. As I lay there exposed to both the tech and the radiologist I will admit it wasn’t my ideal afternoon but after delivering three children I have little modesty left.

After the ultrasound I was told that while they still couldn’t see anything, they also didn’t see a reason for the discharge and wanted to do just one more test before deciding that there was nothing to be concerned about. When they told me I would need a ductogram I didn’t think much about it. I’d never heard of it. Then I was taken to a scheduling nurse to make appointment for it. SHE made me nervous…VERY nervous.

For a ductogram, they use a small needle to inject dye through the nipple into the ducts and then do a mammogram. Did just reading that make you squirm a little? Because it did me. If I thought I was sick to my stomach the morning of the mammogram, it was nothing compared to the morning of the ductogram. I did NOT sleep well the night before and I was sooo nauseous that whole morning. I’ll even be honest and say I came up with a million reasons to call and cancel the appointment. But I went. And you know what, I lived through it. I know you’re shocked, right? It was uncomfortable and kind of made me stomach church to watch but it finally came up with an answer. That made it more than worth it. It WAS nothing to worry about. But better than just a “eh we don’t see anything” it gave me a reason and some SERIOUS peace of mind. And THAT was worth all the minor discomfort, pulling prodding and poking I endured.

If you have been putting off getting your first, or fifth, or tenth, mammogram, STOP! Pick up for the phone today and make an appointment. Sure you’re busy. And I know it’s not nearly as fun as say having lunch with a friend. But this slightly uncomfortable and yeah a little embarrassing test could mean that you’ll be around to have many MORE lunches with friends.

If you’re not sure if it’s time for your first, check out the information below courtesy of Susan G Komen website.

Susan G. Komen for the Cure® recommends that you:

1. Know your risk

Talk to your family to learn about your family health history
Talk to your doctor about your personal risk of breast cancer

2. Get screened

Ask your doctor which screening tests are right for you if you are at a higher risk
Have a mammogram every year starting at age 40 if you are at average risk
Have a clinical breast exam at least every 3 years starting at 20, and every year starting at 40

3. Know what is normal for you and see your health care provider right away if you notice any of these breast changes:

Lump, hard knot or thickening
Swelling, warmth, redness or darkening
Change in the size or shape of the breast
Dimpling or puckering of the skin
Itchy, scaly sore or rash on the nipple
Pulling in of your nipple or other parts of the breast
Nipple discharge that starts suddenly
New pain in one spot that doesn’t go away

4. Make healthy lifestyle choices

Maintain a healthy weight
Add exercise into your routine
Limit alcohol intake

Post by Lisa Noel

Yes, those are mine

Save The Ta Tas is a fabulous website with quirky clothing and merchandise that supports Breast Cancer Research and Lisa Noel, the authoress of this post is giving away on Save the Ta Tas tank of your choice to one lucky reader!

Mandatory first entry: What are you doing this year to help spread the word or fight breast cancer
Bonus entry: Donate to Blogging for Boobs and leave a comment, once the donation is verified.. your bonus entry will be counted
Bonus Entry: Visit Save The Ta Tas and tell us which item is your favorite.
Bonus Entry: Tell us your smashogram(mammogram) experience

This Contest will run until 11:59PM Saturday, October 17th, 2009 (CST)

. Share It If You Like It:

Jill’s Story

Rachel — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 09:19:14 +0000

Two years ago, this weekend, September 2008, a group of women from my mom’s group joined together to participate in the Susan G. Komen Walk for the Cure. We were friends but, had never before the race, discussed our reasons for walking. As we got walking we quickly realized the impact breast cancer had had on our lives. Out of five women, four of our mother’s had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Three had survived and one of my friends lost her mother quite young to breast cancer. Then we started discussing aunts, grandmothers and friends and the list was long. It just seems nowadays there isn’t anyone who hasn’t been touched in some way by this disease.

I had been married for one month when my mom called and told me she was heading to the doctor because she had found a lump. The doctor had told her it was probably nothing since she had a clear mammogram a few months before. They decided to biopsy it as a precaution and immediately knew something was wrong.

I can picture exactly where I was sitting when my mom called me and told me it was cancer.

The world just stopped for a moment.

My mom was lucky. Her cancer was caught very early and it was not that aggressive. She didn’t have to have chemo or a mastectomy. She had radiation and then five years of Tamoxifen and she was cancer free. Then, a few years later, my mom’s sister got nearly the exact same diagnosis. We started to comb through the family tree and found a lot of breast cancer. My mom’s mom had also died of ovarian cancer which is closely related.

Suddenly, I felt suffocated by my family tree.

When my mom and aunt decided to meet with a genetic specialist to see if our family carried the BRACA gene I had to come to terms with my risk. I was in my early 30s. I had to wonder if I had passed on the gene to my two girls. I had to wonder if I would live to see my two girls grow up. It might seem a little melodramatic, but waiting for the results to come back was nerve racking.

The results came back negative for the BRACA gene, but obviously we are dealing with some serious family history. This is why when I found a lump a year ago I immediately demanded that I have surgery to see what was going on. It was an aggressive move for a lump that everyone agreed was nothing. But as a daughter of a survivor and a mother to two young girls I had no desire to “wait and see.” Thankfully, it was nothing, but again, I felt like the shadow of breast cancer was still there.

In my life I have a mom and an aunt who are blessed to call themselves survivors. I have also lost two friends in their early forties to this disease. I have had a breast cancer scare myself and have a scar as a constant reminder of it. And I am only in my mid thirties. I can only imagine how many more encounters I will have in this lifetime. We must beat this disease. For my mom, my friends, myself, most importantly my girls.

We MUST.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jill’s story could be any of ours. I am blessed to call Jill a friend and yet, I had no idea that this was in her life, her past, her present.. her future.

I want to reach out and hug her, yet.. I can’t, she’s too far away. Instead, I’ll make another donation in her honor and her mom’s and her aunt’s. Please join me and help us to raise money that will result in us finding that cure.

. Share It If You Like It:

Win a Custom Twitter Background

Rachel — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 07:07:49 +0000

Yes, you read that correctly. My fabulously talented, wonderful friend Cynthia, of NW Designs who custom designed and illustrated my Blog Characters and Header has branched out into CUSTOM Twitter Backgrounds, and she’s donating one to the Blogging For Boobs Cause!!! (THANK YOU CYN)

Here are just two examples of her work:

You can see more of her custom Twitter Backgrounds on her Design Site.

She is offering a Twitter Background that she will Custom Match to your blog or she’ll custom illustrate one character for you and design your Twitter Background around that! This is an amazing donation and I’m so grateful to her and kind of envious of whomever wins it!!! After all, custom Twitter Backgrounds are FABULOUS advertisement for your blog, business, cause… and they are NOT cheap!!!

The Nitty Gritty:

Entry One (MANDATORY): Leave a comment telling me what you’re doing to support Breast Cancer Awareness, or how breast cancer has personally affected you.
Bonus Entry: Donate to The Susan G Komen foundation through the Blogging For Boobs page.
There is no minimum amount required to gain this bonus entry. Just leave a comment letting me know that you did it and once I’ve verified it, your entry is valid
Bonus Entry: Tweet this with the #bloggingforboobs hashtag and leave the tweet url in a separate comment

Contest is Open from October 13th 2009 to 11:59PM CST October 15th, 2009 Random.Org will be used to pick the winner.

. Share It If You Like It: