“I’m showing my breasts”—the phrase might make you smile, or feel uncomfortable. It sounds a bit provocative, a bit out of step. But if you take a moment to think about it… it says so much more.
Showing your breasts isn’t just about posing in lingerie on Instagram or secretly sending a photo. It’s also—and above all—what millions of women do every year when they have a mammogram, a breast exam, or a routine checkup.
This seemingly innocuous act isn’t so simple for everyone. There’s modesty, fear, sometimes shame, often doubt. And yet, it’s an act that can literally save a life. A tumor detected early means a better chance. Less intensive treatment, a preserved future.
So yes, today, I felt like writing about this. Because in our society, which sexualizes every inch of skin, talking about breasts in any way other than to sell lingerie or generate “likes” is becoming almost revolutionary.
What I’m offering here isn’t a cold, medical discourse. It’s a conversation. An invitation to rethink our relationship with our bodies. With our health. With this chest that we hide, show, judge, love… but monitor far too little.
There are those who hesitate, who put it off, again and again. Those who tell themselves they’re “too young,” or “not concerned,” or that “it’s surely nothing.” And then there’s the fear. Not so much the fear of undressing in front of someone—that too, of course, can be a barrier—but the fear of what they might hear. Because we know: an anomaly, a nodule, a slightly too long silence during the examination… it’s enough to ruin a day. Sometimes a life.
So yes, some women avoid it. Others prefer not to know. We’re not judging them here. We understand them. But that’s precisely why we’re talking about it.
The weight of hypersexualization
And then there’s everything that breasts represent—or rather, everything we’ve projected onto them. Seduction, femininity, desire. From a young age, we learn that our breasts are not neutral. They attract stares, comments, sometimes even hands. After that, it’s difficult to offer them up to a doctor’s gaze without feeling a hint of discomfort.
It’s absurd when you think about it, but it’s human nature. We’ve so closely linked breasts to sexual intimacy that we forget they primarily serve a biological purpose. That they can become diseased. And that they deserve to be looked at in a way that goes beyond simply judging their size or shape. Showing your breasts in a doctor’s office is therefore much more than a simple examination. It’s a moment of vulnerability. But also—and perhaps above all—an act of self-care. A way of saying: I respect myself. I listen to myself. I take the initiative.
Screening: when, how, and where to get examined?
Self-examination, consultation, mammogram
Screening isn’t necessarily a big word. Sometimes it starts at home, quietly, in the bathroom or lying in bed. A hand placed on the breast, a simple gesture, an almost discreet check. This is called self-examination.
Does it replace a medical exam? No. But it’s a first step. A way to become familiar with your body, to learn to notice any changes. Because yes, we’re often the first to feel that “something isn’t quite right.” And no device can do that for us.
Then there’s the consultation. The famous palpation by a healthcare professional. An expert hand, a reassuring look (when everything is fine), a referral for further tests if needed. It’s quick, often painless, but it requires that famous courage to go.
And then, beyond a certain age, there’s the mammogram. We hear all sorts of conflicting information. Some women dread it, others find it quite bearable. The truth? It’s not a pleasant experience, but it’s far from insurmountable. Two minutes of discomfort… for years of peace of mind, sometimes.
In France: Available facilities, reimbursements, local initiatives
Good news: in France, we’re fortunate. The national breast cancer screening program is well established. From age 50—and up to 74—all women are invited to have a mammogram every two years, fully covered. It’s free. Yes, completely.
But it’s not just for that age group. If you have a family history, doubts, or even just need reassurance, your doctor can refer you to an imaging center. And in most cities, there are screening centers or associations that organize awareness campaigns. Sometimes they even have mobile units and events open to everyone.
The hardest part isn’t finding where to get the test done. It’s often taking the plunge. Daring to do it. And there’s no magic formula for that. Just a little push. An appointment you finally make. A conversation with a friend who dared before you. Or maybe… an article like this one.
Speaking out, showing, exposing yourself: when women’s voices liberate others
Testimonies from women who dared
There are women who choose to talk about it. And sometimes, it changes everything. Not because they’re seeking attention. Not to create a buzz. But because one day, they were afraid. They went through the examination, the diagnosis, the doubt, or just that apprehension of “what they might find.”
And instead of keeping it to themselves, they spoke out. Out loud, on a blog, in an Instagram story, in a forum post, or simply over coffee. A sentence tossed out almost at random, something like: “I did it. And you know what? I’m glad I did.”
The rise of blogs, Instagram accounts, and groups to talk about it differently
See this post on Instagram
A post shared by Beatrice de La Boulaye (@beatricedelaboulaye)
Today, there are blogs run by former patients, Instagram accounts where breasts are discussed unfiltered, without false glamour, sometimes with photos of scars, raw yet profoundly dignified stories. Spaces where what is never shown in magazines is revealed.
And surprisingly, it doesn’t shock. On the contrary. It soothes. It reassures. Because it reminds us that we are not alone. That others have been through this. That they came through it. And that we, too, have the right to say that we are afraid. Or that we haven’t yet dared.
There are even Telegram groups, more intimate forums, where some share their mammogram photos, their reports, their emotions. Not to show off. Not to shock. Just to support each other. Because there is sometimes more sisterhood in an anonymous discussion than in a silent waiting room. It is these women, whether discreet or outspoken, who are making a difference. In their own way. One post after another, one confidence after another. They show that being vulnerable isn’t about making yourself vulnerable. It’s sometimes about helping another woman protect herself.
And what if showing your breasts was also about reclaiming your power?
From sexual exhibitionism… to medical exhibitionism
We’re so used to seeing breasts through the lens of seduction that we forget their essential role. They are living organs. Fragile. Complex. And sometimes, diseased.
So yes, in a world that sexualizes everything, showing your breasts for screening is almost an act of resistance. It’s not exhibitionism, it’s self-care. It’s not offering yourself up to the gaze of others, but confronting yourself—and the reality of your body.
And in a way, it reverses the roles. We no longer passively accept the image reflected back at us. We take action. We take back control. We say: “I know my body. I respect it. And I take care of it, because it matters.”
For ourselves, for others, for life.
When we dare to take this step, when we undergo this examination, we don’t do it only for ourselves. We also do it for those around us. Our daughters, our sisters, our friends, our mothers. Those we love, those who don’t dare, those who haven’t even thought about it yet.
Because a woman who takes care of herself is a signal. An inspiration. A way of saying, without grand pronouncements: “You can do it too. You deserve to protect yourself.”
