The Blossoms are in Bloom, the Boobs are in a Vice...

Yes, it's the lovely time of year when the doctor dictates a mammogram.  As I sat in the waiting room, clad in my thin hospital gown, eyeing the "crusher", I had a revelation.  It isn't the actual picture-taking experience I hate, it's having a strange woman handle my breasts...having to stand in front of the machine, limp armed, while she picks up each breast and plops them on the waiting tray so she can lower a plastic flattening plate to see how long and thin she can get my boob.

After all these years of suffering the pain, at least the tech today explained the procedure hurts more if you don't relax your shoulders.  I assumed a less rigid stance and she's right. Poor posture eased the discomfort... but not the embarrassment.  I knew what was going through her mind..."boy, these puppies are looong... and heavy... and check out the shelf she's growing around her middle." 

Plus, this is the first time I've had someone put little sticky circles beneath each breast to mark the skin tags I've grown in the past years. If I was a farmer, I could consider I've harvested a hefty crop, but alas...  What the hell?  How come men don't have to suffer crap like this?

Anyhow, my revelation also included an brilliant idea.  For years, we've had those little photo booths where you step in, draw the curtain and have your picture taken.  Why not create a Mammo booth?  Have an instruction screen on the wall behind the "mashing" plates, and let us do our own.  I'll bet my next month's royalties that the number of women having the screening would increase.  I'm pretty sure I can heft my own tit up on a tray and hit a pedal to lower the boom.  Think of the money saved...no more gowns, no more techs...and your films would be ready in a minute.  *lol*  Great idea, huh?  Remember, you heard it here first.

This is one exercise to prepare for your annual mammogram; the other is to lay in the driveway and have someone back the car over your boob. As was so kindly pointed out to me by my sister, I wouldn't even have to lay down. I could stand. Okay....so age does add some length.

Today, I went for my first mammo in a few years. I've been a bad girl, but my doctor insisted, so I went. Things have improved in small ways. Everything is computerized and the actual films are no more. Although the technician told me I didn't have to hold my breath, an inward gasp as your breast flattens into a pancake is a natural instinct. It's hard to breath until the tech pushes the release pedal. Once they have it nice and flat from top to bottom, then you get to do it all over again from side to side. I actually think it second step is to put it back into it's original shape.

Luckily, the discomfort only lasts for seconds. For me, it's more about the embarrassment of having another human lift my saggy old boob and put it up on the tray, then manipulate it into place like a lump of dough. It's hard to make small talk. "Hey, how about those Dodgers?" *lol*

The reason for the post is not to scare you away from having an exam, but to remind you to schedule one. Mammograms save lives, and don't follow my bad example and wait five years between your appointments. Now I just have to suffer through ten days until they read the results and let me know that everything is okay. I'm prayin'.