So what do you do when you have a blog about a health challenge and you've shared everything but your bra size? Which is especially traumatizing when you don't know what your bra size really is. Victoria's Secret will tell you. They can tell you your actual bra size. That's their secret. I fooled myself for years that I was larger than I am. Until I went to Victoria's Secret. The slim little sprite from lingerie tittles over with her mini computer worthy of an Always commercial.

You girls know what Always is. Still don't know why they named them 'Always' when it's only once a month.

In any case, the sprite asks if she can help me. I want to ask if they carry breast implants. "I am looking for a bra!" I say, with enthusiasm worthy of a Raspberry Award. She whips out her measuring tape and wraps me like a gift. Numbers tack the circumference of my chest. I take a deep breath hoping it will enlarge my cups. Alas, tea cups it is "32B or 34A" she says. Seriously? I think something happens when you walk through the entrance - passing angels in thongs on the way. Breasts are reduced to the size of gumdrops and I wonder why I am there. Oh yes, to buy a bra, when duct tape with cheetah print will do.

But back to the blog. Today I have a lump. Not the ones on my chest. It is a lump in my groin where the top of my left thigh meets my base of my trunk. It is just inside of my hip bone. I was surprised when my fingers accidentally collided with its face at two a.m. Then I remembered - about a year ago - I noticed a tiny pea-like bump in its place. It was not large enough to be anything but a thought. With the whirl of my spine, the thought went away and became the furthest think from my mind. But now it is heard.

The lump does not hurt. So in a way it is refreshing to have a concern without pain attached to its skin. Today I see my internist to begin the process of discovering why it is there. It is now the size of a grape. The wish I have now, is that it is seedless.

My daughter is home sick from school and hears me explaining this discovery to a friend. Her innocence momentarily drowns my concern as she breaks out in fevered song, "My lump! My lump! My lovely lady lump!" And again I am removed from my worries because what matters most is life. I return to writing and wonder again if this is worthy of a blog. A lump could be anything at all. But blogging is how I process fear. There are no secrets when I am here. Awaiting a truth I may not wish to know. Kind of like a bra size. With tea cups. Served by angels in thongs in a world where secrets are never meant grow.