Ode To My Boobs

 Twenty-Four hours ago, I was sitting in the waiting area apologizing to my boobs for the torture that was about to be inflicted upon them What torture might that be, you ask? 

THE YEARLY MAMMOGRAM. 

The one medical procedure that stresses me out more than anything. Yes, I know the importance of it, and I would never forgo it or tell anyone else to, but anyone who has had one can relate to the horror of it. Really, I'm not a wimp...honestly! I gave birth to two humans within seven minutes of each other without any drugs (not by choice...I'm not that brave!). But that's a whole different story. Let's get back to my poor little boobs (and I do mean that literally), the technician reminds me every year that if I were a little bigger on top it wouldn't be as panful. I have to stop and wonder, what would you like me to do lady? Grow a set of triple D's overnight? Does she actually think I like still being able to fit into a training bra?

The time seems to be dragging on as I wait to be led to the torture chamber. I try and think of something else to take my mind off it...anything, but it's not working. The only image I have flashing through my brain is my boob being placed on a tray, and the sound of the machine clamping down on it while I stand in the most awkward position, the whole time thinking, "Please don't let the power go out!". I mean really, has that crossed any of your minds? If not...you're welcome for that added fear! Then there's the switch to snap the picture. I don't know about your place, but at mine, the darn switch is all the way on the other side of the room. So once you're in the position described above. The tech moseys on over to the other side of the room (which seems like hours instead of seconds) to snap the picture and release the clamp. Who designs these machines? I mean, in this day and age shouldn't there be something a little better? 

Then I hear her coming down the hall to get me, like Dr. Frankenstein getting ready to lead me to his laboratory. I look down at my boobs one last time and tell them this:

"Give the camera the best smile you can, so the tech doesn't say, "we need to do this again".

I know you may hate me for a small amount of time, but trust me, it's necessary to make sure you're healthy and fine. 

The few agonizing moments of prevention you're about to endure is so much better than the cure."