So the other day I had my first mammogram - I doubt I even spelled that right and frankly, I don't give a rip. I was so freaked out at the prospect of having my boobs squished that I was actually tearing up on the way to the doctor's office. I had to call my MOMMIE to have her soothe my frazzled nerves and tell me that it was no big deal, especially for a girl with jugs like mine. Hmph, I thought. I am sure it will still be terribly painful and bizarre. The receptionist tried to reassure me but I didn't buy her act for a minute.
Well, the bizarre part is surely right but as for pain, well - it really was like Mom and the receptionist said, No Big Deal. The technician was a stoic, handsome woman - mostly business, little small talk. "Bend over, please" she would say and I would bend at the waist so that she could jiggle and bat my boobs around to get them into a (I guess) proper smashing position. Talk about feeling like a prized heifer! Then (this is the worst) she would have me stand up straight while still clutching my boob with two hands like she was holding a Big Mac, and lead me by the boob over to the Giant Mamo Machine for further humiliation and torture.
Once to the machine, she would deftly wrangle my unruly and uncooperative breast under a large clear plastic flattening device, lowering it until I felt like my nipples might pop off and then walking away, leaving me to the horrendously unflattering view of my flattened boob and totally, hopelessly attached to the Machine with no possible means of escape. "Don't breathe" she would say as the machine took its pictures, as if I could really be breathing while my boob is having the life squeezed out of it - Hell, I was holding my breath the whole time, hoping that my implants wouldn't explode!
Afterward, the stoic one showed me the pictures (well, I asked to see them) and I looked but of course, had no idea what I was looking at. My implants looked like two massive outdoor lightbulbs but the rest of the stuff, well - who knows - I could have been looking at rampant cancerous tumors for all I know. But of course, my natural superiority complex took over and I thought "Well, I sure don't see any cancer." In any event, my boobs looked like two ruby red grapefruits afterward as I stuffed them into my bra and headed out the door with my head down. And now I have to do this once a YEAR? Getting old sucks. What's next, hot flashes?
BTW - I went back up over 150. Oh well, that just means I can make another amazing pronouncement in a few days, right? Just for today I am eating clean, drinking my water (oops, I'd better get on that, stat) and exercising tonight. Yay!