3/18/2019

Dear Walgreens, Go Battle Your Own Self "Beautifully!"




Dear Walgreens,

Look, I get it. You were trying to do a good thing. But you screwed the pooch on this one. That “Battle Beautifully” commercial you did? Yeah, well I have some thoughts about your latest advertising campaign. I have or I had or I whatever you call it when you’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer and you’re finished with treatment but don’t know if the cancer’s finished with you. I finished treatment a year ago and your ad brought up every painful emotion I felt during that terrible time. That’s what an ad campaign is supposed to do, right? Manipulate emotions?

But then you show women wearing brightly colored wigs, having makeup applied, getting hugs from sympathetic pharmacists and you remind me, that as a woman, I can never get away from the relentless pressure to be “beautiful.”

Tell me something, are you planning a campaign like this for men “battling” prostate cancer?

Is it not enough that I worry every single day that the cancer is still inside me, or coming back, without having to worry about “battling beautifully?”

The only thing you left out was the scene where the hapless breast cancer survivor walks off into the sunset with her Prince Charming. But I sort of think you left that part out intentionally. After all, how could a breast-less woman possibly attract, let alone seduce a man?

And don’t tell me you wanted to pump up my self esteem. My breast was severed from my body. A coat of foundation won’t fix that. If cancer has given me anything, it has made me truly realize that self-esteem and confidence need to come from within. That’s the lesson we try to teach our daughters. That’s the tremulous tune we hum under our breath- “I am enough as I am.”

Your emotionally manipulative ad campaign is a slap in the face to every woman fighting cancer.

If you truly wanted to help, which I sincerely doubt, try this- What if you had cancer? What would you need? What would help you stay strong?

Educate me. Tell me how to fight the nausea. Tell me what helps when your tastebuds change. Tell me it’s normal to feel terrified and grief-stricken. Recommend over the counter aids. Carry more turbans and headscarves. Tell me how to find financial aid. And yes, sympathetic pharmacist, by all means, touch my arm, look into my eyes, walk around from behind the counter and listen for a few minutes. But don’t you dare hand me a tube of lipstick and tell me to “Battle Beautifully.”

Sincerely,


Nancy Bartholomew

P.S Oh, I guess this almost goes without saying...I won't be buying one single item from your stores- not an eye drop, not a tissue, not a toothbrush.


2 comments:

Pam said...

Excellent post. They need to see it.

Anonymous said...

Don't blame you, Nancy, my friend. I seldom patronize Wal-Mart. I'm not smiling an upbeat smile and handing you a lipstick. I'm mad as h-ll that this thing hit you. I never thought of myself as any kind of poet until I was in your class at Wildacres, what? surely not fifteen years ago. But it was. During the critique session, you said when you read my class submission you knew I was a poet. Well, I'm still not much of one, I dabble in it. But my main writing is mystery, as was yours. I hope you get back to it. My life's been a little bit of a roller coaster the last few years, tho not like yours. My husband died after lingering 3 years after a stroke. Daughter and grandson & family lived with me a while. Both are estranged now. But life goes on. I was going through my bookmarks, deleting those no longer active and came to yours. I used to check it regularly, but after reading about Luther and Max (tearfully) didn't see anymore. I remember you writing about your cabin. I loved it. Stay strong, Nancy. I love you. Am glad your daughter-in-law is okay. Best to both of you.
Sylvia Nickels