Cancer's Supermodel

*Disclaimer: You may not like this blog. If you already dislike me, you probably shouldn't read this blog as it wouldn't be fair to either of us. You won't be objective. If you have a yellow wristband on, there is a 52.6% chance (I totally made that number up) that reading this blog will make you feel dirty...and not in a cyclocross sort of way. You will feel your teeth grit. You may want to slap me. You may ring my doorbell with a yellow bracelet in a bag and a picture of a relative in your hand. It will not change my opinion....and likely I will not change yours. However, this is my blog and I get to write my opinions, thoughts, feeling here. Blogging is free. You too can get your own and do the same and I may or may not read it. That being said, do not say you have not been forewarned. (Plus you had to click a cute little button acknowledging you were aware that there might be "objectionable" content here, so the gloves are off.) I cannot believe that we live in times when you have to warn people that your opinion may offend them, but everyone reading clicked, so....Game on!

I don't like him.

I don't.

Lance Armstrong.

Guess what?

I'm allowed to not like him.

I have that right.

(And because I got this comment once before, I will head you off: Yes, actually I was riding bikes before anyone other than his family knew who he was. He is 11 months older than me but he didn't shoot me a memo when I was 4 and he was 5 with a photo of him riding his bike, so there's no telling who actually got in the saddle first. I simply got on my ugly yellow bike with the obnoxiously flowered banana seat and rode it.)

He's significantly better at riding a bike than I am. Hands down. There is no comparison on or off the bike being attempted to be made to Lance Armstrong.

I am simply stating that I do not like him, and I have made my peace with that fact.

Just because we both got cancer and ride bikes doesn't make us instant blood buddies.

There are plenty of people with (and without) cancer whom I like and others I do not like.

It's not a fucking club.

We don't have a secret handshake.

I suppose we could flash our super cool scars like the Bloods and the Crips, but considering where our scars are located, I think I'll pass.

Cancer doesn't give someone a soul.

If you were an asshole pre-cancer (he openly admits that he was, as do I...take that how you like) then likely you will be an asshole during cancer and after cancer is gone.

(We can always hope that isn't true, but people are tricky.)

Look, the dude had a pretty shitty childhood...regardless of how cool his mom was.

He was an angry kid.

Then he lost a nut.

I'd be pissed off too.

That being said, Lance never asked anyone to like him.

Ever.

I've read his books.

I've read his interviews.

He's a prick...and he makes no apology for this.

Nor should he.

Lance is being true to Lance.

It is the general sheep-herded, need-a-salvation, Lance-is-cooler-than-Jesus population that has made it required that you, me, your sister, your kids, their kids, and the family dog like, respect, and worship Lance.

Sorry. I attended 9 years of Catholic school. I'm all tapped out on cuckoo.

I bow before no man. (My ex-husband will support this statement.)

Lance is like an evangelist.

He doesn't give a crap about anyone but Lance...so long as you send the LAF your money and wear his pretty yellow bracelet (Which are interestingly enough, not bpa-free...).

He loves what you have made of his image.

Image.

Not a person.

Lance is a person.

Lancefanatics have been sold on the image.

Don't misunderstand, I support the work that the intelligent and dedicated people who run the LAF do to raise funds and awareness for the fight against cancer.

There are a LOT of people doing a LOT of really spectacular things in that organization.

A LOT of people. Not one man.

Lance is cancer's supermodel.

A face. A nut, if you will. (I "may" have been speaking about his testicle there...but I reread the statement and feel I should leave it open for interpretation.)

*snicker*

Honestly, I don't give a crap if you love Lance.

I care about as much as I care if people love Jesus or the GOP.

(Not a bit.)

I may not understand you, but I really don't care who/what you like.

What I care about is that I have my freedom to not like/worship Lance.

People who judge me for disliking him are assholes and hypocrites.

If someone could articulate to me in an educated and informed manner as to why I am required to like/respect Lance Armstrong, I will listen...openly.

The fact is, you cannot force someone to like someone else.

Having a different opinion on whether someone is fantastic is normal and OK.

If it was an important matter and not merely opinion and yawn-inducing, I could understand.

No one is liked by all.

I am regularly loved and loathed.

I assure you that like me, Lance does not go home and tuck himself into a fetal position because there are people who do not like him.

Frankly, when he leaves the US, it's pretty much a coin toss as to how he will be treated.

He knows this and deals with it...pretty well.

Lance handles not being liked...why can't his fans?

He is just a dude on a bike.

He shits, showers, and shaves just like the rest of us.

...he just shits yellow cupcakes.