Tissue

The theme of this post is "tissue."

But don't let that put you off. I really just have 2 items spawned by your comments that I didn't get to in Saturday's Comments on Comments, and as I try to justify throwing them into one post, I find a common link:

1. There's the tissue that venus flytraps eat. Are the inside guts of inverterbrates considered "tissue"?

In my house, in Colorado, in October and now November, there are no inverterbrates to be found. Some of you suggested a banana would work when the pear failed.

(I pulled the pear out a few days ago, when Gemma happened not to be around. Yesterday, she noticed the pear-less terarium and said, "I guess the flytrap ate up all the pear!")

But the banana did not work. No fruit flies to be found. So we're going to go with the raw beef plan. Amanda swears it did not kill her plant for at least 2 years. Plus, the beef we eat is grass fed and hormone free. I don't know of another flytrap in captivity that will eat this well. . .

A few have asked what the kids thought of it. When I first unveiled it to Gemma, with Josh not present, I told her, "Stick your finger in there," and she did, and the trap closed up on her. She yanked her finger out, very startled, very mystified.

I explained a lot right there and she thought it was wonderful. She wanted to poke it again, but I told her that this weakens the plant and de-sensitizes the traps, so she couldn't.

The next day, it was Joshua's turn to meet the pet. Gemma said, "Josh, put your finger right there," and he said, "No. Those poky things will grab me."

Huh! Funny how he knew what would happen. I let Gemma demonstrate with her finger and Joshua has not gone near the plants since.

#2. Also about tissue. Breast tissue. (How many of you saw that coming?)

A friend e-mailed with an interesting reflection: She was trying to imagine what the loss of a breast would mean to her, and wondered if, as a small-chested woman, it would add up to less grief in some way.

I'm pretty sure part of her point was that she doesn't bank a whole lot on her bust size right now/doesn't pick out clothing that celebrates it/doesn't see "hourglass" in the mirror and so wonders how big a deal it would be if what little is there now weren't there at all.

Hmm. It is interesting. And I have 2 thoughts about it.

a) I used to wonder, too, what it would be like to lose a breast or two. Long before the diagnosis. Long before feeling "that swollen lymph node." I didn't think about it often. But there's a lot of pink around, people, and on a few of those ocassions of seeing pink, I thought about it.

When I compare what I'd imagined it would be like to what it's like, I realize that this is just one of those things that can't be accurately imagined. There's just no other experience that compares to or mimics losing a body part, though I suppose I share a little common ground with someone who's lost, like, a finger or something. . .

On the one hand, it's not as horrible as I'd imagined it would be. But in some ways, it's a lot worse. I guess I just look forward to a time when no one has to know what it's like. I'd love to be like the last blood-letting patient the world knew, reminiscing as a 90-year-old what was done and why while first year medical students listen and say, "You're kidding me. . . "

b) Here's an even bigger chunk of insight: You would all be amazed to know how much breast tissue is on your body!

Women and men, boys and girls--everyone has breast tissue!

Without it, and I almost wish I could show you a picture, but I won't, so don't every worry about that, the human body is a touch concave.

There's the pectoralis muscle, and below it, where the breast tissue was, is now a rib cage with a layer of skin over it. Nothin' else. Nothing else to make it "flat," as I say, the contour is actually concave.

I'm picturing right now my male readers, if any remain, and I wouldn't blame them if they didn't, feeling their chests right now, saying, "No way, man, I'm a rock up there."

No, you're not.

Your pec occupies a different space on your body from your breast tissue. And body builders get so big, the pec encroaches upon the breast tissue's territory, but it's still there.

All of which is meant to demonstrated to small-busted ladies out there: You might be pretty close to being flat-chested right now. But without those A-cups, you'd be concave. And there's no shirt out there that could flatter that line.

I'm glad to share this with you because I found it to be a fascinating anatomical observation that, I'm pretty sure, you'd otherwise not know about.

I'm also glad to share it because I think there's a lot of uncomfortable curiosity about what "it" actually looks like, one we're driven to the more pink our world becomes, and yet one we just can't imagine if left to our own devices.