More Groping & Some Griping

Evidently (I'm too fond of that word) I'm at a rather high risk for breast cancer, so my mother informs me after drilling her oncologist. Great.
Primary factors (not necessarily in order of importance):
1) family inheritance (mom and grandma have had it)
2) used The Pill (this one pisses me off, because every time I refilled that prescription I asked those medical bastards what the latest study said, or what the current thinking was. I always got the same response: "You don't smoke, you're fine.)
3) never been married
4) never been pregnant
5) never nursed a baby

Well fuck all y'all, because it is not fair that I should have to live my life with smallish tits and then have to worry about potentially having some or all of it carved away.
Furthermore, I am not knocked up or betrothed because I didn't want to be. I've wanted a passel of little babies since I was old enough to know what one was.

Shit.

Here's the good news:
1) Out of sheer suspiciousness, I took myself off The Pill
2) My granny survived, and mother probably will too
3) I take really good care of my body - my diet is much better than either of the aforementioned ladies, and I exercise regularly.
4) I haven't been on those evil estrogen replacement hormones like they gave my mom when she hit menopause.
5) yoga
6) I rarely drink, and I don't smoke.

HERE'S the REALLY Good News:

I had this conversation with my friend, Scott:

Scott: But you do self-examination regularly, right?
Me: No. I should, but I'm bad about it. Besides, it's just so gay (not sure what I mean there), feeling yourself up like that. (which is an ironic statement coming from me, on so many levels.)
Scott: Well, I'll do that for you.
Me: Really? That's SO generous of you.

(pause)

Me: But that won't work, Scott. Because that requires a COMMITMENT.
Scott: Oh. Well, I can do that, I can feel your tits for you once a month.

(pause)

Scott: I care.